


30 Days of Frank

by Dustybaby, Winterscribe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, My Chemical Romance
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Every family has one, Frank Iero Is A Little Shit, Frank Iero Is A Sweetheart, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 48,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26401858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustybaby/pseuds/Dustybaby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterscribe/pseuds/Winterscribe
Summary: Thirty days of fiction writing challenge.If there are errors, sorry! Set within the universe as our other work, I think I love You, but it is not the same timeline. You do not need to read the other one for this to make sense but it does help with some of the inside jokes.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	1. "The Letter"

As he steps off the elevator, he waves to the building manager. He can hear the jingling of her bracelets as he steps up to the mailboxes. Brock is still sleeping and he just couldn't lay in bed all day. He feels too lazy. He has to do something, probably the laundry and folding towels but this gets him it of the apartment.

He pulls the junk mail and bills from the little box as a small crimson envelope hits the floor. His eyes focus on it for just a moment before he picks up the envelope and runs his fingers over the wax seal of a 'G' on the back then flipping it over and tracing the cursive on the front.

 _Mr. F. Iero_.

He holds it in his hand as he enters the elevator and heads back to the apartment. Once inside, he sets the other mail down and holds the small envelope in his hand. Curiosity gets the best of him, he pads to Brock's office and pulls his letter opener from the drawer, and slices the top open. He pulls the thick cream-colored paper out and flips it open. The writing is impressive, large swirling letters that scrawled across the page.

_Mr. Iero,_

_Non può stare con te tutto il tempo. Ti prenderò da solo e ti ucciderò a mani nude. Farò in modo che senta ciò che si merita. Menti con un assassino, questa è la tua malefazione._

He pads quietly into the bedroom and picks up his phone. He checks that Brock is still sound asleep and heads back to the office. Sitting in the chair, he translates the words and sits back. That's not frightening at all. Does he tell Brock? What would happen if he did? No, he's gotta handle this on his own. This is his problem. He takes a moment and centers his thoughts.

Frank takes a photo of the letter and envelope then sends it to Jack, telling him he just received this. He asks him to keep this between them. Rising to his feet, he folds the letter back up and picks up the envelope.

Frank moves into the kitchen and pulls a lighter from the drawer. He lights the corner of the letter and drops it in the sink as he burns. He rips the wax from the envelope, placing it on the counter, then burning the envelope.

He watches the flames in the sink before turning the water on. The smoke billows from the metal sink and activates the fire alarm.

"Fuck!" Frank panics as he hears Brock's groan from the bedroom.


	2. Lost in the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank goes out on his own in Italy without Brock.

"Wait." Frank spins around and glances at the street signs. They are all in Italian. He frowns, his fucking memory of what the street he needed to get back had left. He glances to his left and sees a path way with stair, the other way is where he just came from. Is this a park? It looks like a fuckin park. Jesus christ, how did this happen?

He shouldn't have gone out without someone. Is it even safe for him to be out on the street alone? Probably not but his stubborn ass just has to do things to see Capri for himself. He smiles at an older couple walking by who looked at him like he was growing a horn. 

He moves back the way he came, the white stucco buildings all look the same. He passes by unfamiliar sights, getting a little more anxious. He's thankful he's only got about $20 in his pocket. He pulls Brock's dog tags out and walks confident through the Passage. He hopes to give the confident military man appearance, to detract any potential trouble.

'You are getting more lost. Just call Brock.' he says to himself as he takes a right. If he ever plans to live here, he has to get used to it. Glancing down at his phone, the map on screen is a maze of streets with the word via in front of them. He takes another turn and runs smack in a small and tanned woman. The hit sends her things clattering to the cobblestone.

"I'm so sorry!" Frank immediately bends and picks up her things.

"It's okay. I should have been looking." She replies with an accent. Her voice is warm and deeper and draws his attention. He looks at her face, the bright red lips are the first thing he notices against her skin. Her hair is perfectly messy in a bun on top of her head as tendrils of almost black hair fall into her honey colored eyes.

"I shouldn't be looking down..." Frank says with a soft smile.

"Are you lost?" She asks.

"Yeah. I'm not sure… how but I am." Frank says rubbing his neck as they both stand, "It's that apparent..." Shes the same height as him even with her heels on. 

"It's the map. Where are you headed? Maybe I can help." She smiles as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

Frank turns the phone to her and points on the map. He watches her eyes widen slightly. She nods, "I can help." 

Frank catches the look and is curious how she will treat him. Everyone must know the Rumlows and where their property is. He plays it cool and nods as she waves him to follow. 

"I'm Francesca, by the way." 

"Frank. Nice to meet you, thank you for helping me. This is my first time in the city alone." He says with a smile.

"Oh, are you here for business or pleasure?" 

"Both, I suppose." Frank shrugs, "I've never actually gotten to be a tourist though here in Europe." 

"Well welcome to Capri." She grins. 

"Thanks!" Frank replies as they stop at the corner before crossing. They walk along and chat quietly about their lives, Frank keeps his details vague.

"Are you working for the Rumlows?" She asks.

"Yes." He fibs. He doesn't wanna say he's a family member.

"Oh. How's that?" She asks.

"Not bad. They are nice." Frank says with a nod.

"It's surprising how nice they are." 

"Oh? Really?" Frank wrinkles his forehead.

"Well, others who have been in control of the area were… stricter." She comments with a tone to her voice. 

"Oh. That's good to know!" Frank beams.

"The older brother is a catch… I hear he's bringing home a new wife." She smiles, "Which is unfortunate, cause he's quite attractive."

"He is also a very nice man." Frank grins, he's the new wife. He wants to laugh but keeps it in. 

"I mean they are all painfully pretty." She says with a smile.

"They are. The younger brother is cute too." Frank smiles.

" He looks so angry."

"He's not. He's a goofball." Frank replies, maybe she would be a nice playmate for Jack.

"My oldest sister went to school with the sister and brother." 

"And?" Frank raises an eyebrow.

"The sister is mean. Brock is a doll." 

"Huh. Interesting. I suppose I should watch myself around her then." Frank says with a nod.

As they round the corner, he can see the gates of the Rumlow property. Their compound is massive and takes the hillside over. He looks to the pretty woman and gives her a huge smile, "Thank you for your help. I don't know how I got so turned around."

"It's easy. You got turned around at the park." She smiles, "It happens."

"I appreciate your help." Frank says looking at her soft smile.

"I suppose, this is where I leave you." She says with a trace of sadness in her voice, "Maybe I'll see you around the city. I work at Trattoria Il Solitario, maybe you could come by and we could have dinner?"

"That would be great! We should exchange numbers?" Frank says with a smile.

"Give me your phone." She says putting her hand out. He places the device in her hand, thankful that hes not got Brock as the background. She enters +39 021 437 2382, "Call me. We can do coffee and lunch."

"I would like that!" Frank nods.

"Excellent! Call me tom--" she is cut off by shouting.

"Frank Anthony!" Brock's voice calls as the gates open. The jig is up, his cover's been blown as Brock marches down the driveway. 

Francesca raises an eyebrow, "And there is he… looks like you're in trouble." 

"I was worried something had happened to you, _tesoro!_ " Brock says as he wraps arms around Frank and squeezes him. 

"I'm fine, Brock. I just got lost." Frank says hugging Brock back, "Francesca helped me."

" _Thank you for helping my husband._!" Brock speaks to her with a small nod.

"Husband. Gotcha." She nods and gives Frank a look. He winces a little and gives her an apologetic look.

"Ill call you!" Frank says before Brock takes his hand and leads him away, "thank you so much!"


	3. And the sky turned purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rained out show, things go from crap to worse in a matter of seconds

Standing on stage, he could see in the distance the sky changing from the bright blue to something darker. It's only the second song of their set and he just had a feeling that something bad was going to come of this. He glances to the side and sees Mike jamming with his head down. No one else seems phased by this. He continues to play but he watches the sky when he gets the chance, watching it turn darker and darker. He bounces around and tries not to worry. 

As they begin the final song, a clap of thunder vibrates the entire stage and makes him jerk. He looks up as the grey sky turns deep purple with traces of red and orange. The rain comes down in sheets drenching the kids in front of them and everything around him. He looks at Ray and Gerard who nod, they keep playing until they get shut down. 

Lightning crackles across the deep purple sky and lights up the stage. Gerard steps to the back of the stage and glances to the side. Frank's gaze follows but Alan is nowhere to be seen. A sizzling sound comes through the festival speakers and sparks fly into the crowd. Frank motions to cut it and Ray nods. It's too dangerous.

"Everyone get to safety! Now!" Gerard says into the microphone before it screeches through the now warped speakers. He waves for the guys to follow him as they exit the stage. They rush towards the panel van as lightning flashes overhead and the heavy boom shakes the van as they close the door. 

The five of them watch as the storm roll through. Once the rain clears the van door opens and Alan crawls in, "who ended the fucking show early?"

"We all kinda did. It was--" Gerard says but is cut off.

"You don't get paid to end the fucking show!"

"It was dangerous." Frank says rolling his eyes. He looks to Ray and feels a sharp pain crawl across his face as the slapping sound fills his ears. He looks at Alan who is wearing a rageful face. "Don't you fucking touch me." 

"Leave him alone." Mike says. Alan recoils but Frank moves in front of his friend and gets hit in the shoulder. Gerard moves to help his brother. 

"You shut the fuck up!" He snaps, "Your stupid faggot ass doesn't get to make decisions." 

"You don't get to call me names." Frank says firmly. 

"I do what I want, boy." Alan points his finger at Frank, "You work for me. I fucking own you." 

" No. Fuck the you don't." Frank hisses as he swats away Alan's finger.

Alan reaches over and yanks him out of the van. Frank stumbles out and falls into the mud. Before he can get to his feet, Alan kicks into his side. Frank wheezes as he curls up. The pain running along his skin.

"Get up." Alan hisses. Frank slowly crawls to his feet and gets hit across the face.

"You don't get to make a decision. You are worthless." Alan spits at him. He jabs him in the cheek. The strike makes his head throb. 

"I fucking hate you." Frank mutters, "White trash bastard." 

Frank takes a swing and hits Alan in the neck. He winds up and throws another hit and lands it in Alan's face. The other man hits him hard across the face. He stumbles back as Alan grabs his muddy shirt and throws him to the ground. 

He lies face up for a moment, he tries to get up but is stopped as Alan drops on his chest and hits him in the face. 'Fuck, he _might actually kill me.' Frank thinks as he tries to fight back. The weight_ on his chest feels as if the ribs protecting his lung were going to collapse. 

"I own you. You are nothing." Alan hits him hard enough that he sees white spots in his vision. Frank groans as the weight is lifted. His head is spinning and can taste the iron in his mouth. He rolls to the side and feels the worst pain he's felt as a hard kick lands in his lower back. Frank cries out as he curls up. 

"Enough!" Ray shouts.

"You're gonna hurt him!" Bob snaps and moves in front of him. 

Mike steps around and crouches, "get up Frankie." He offers his hand. Frank takes his hand and rises to his feet. The movement makes him cry out and double over. Something is really wrong. He gasps for air. Something is broken.

Mike leads him to the van. 

"I need." Frank hisses out, "clean clothes. Water." 

"Frankie." Mike says softly. 

"No. No, I'm fine. I'll be ok." Frank says through gritted teeth. 

Mike nods and steps in. The grabs a stolen waterbottle and pulls the least smelly jeans and shirt from his backpack, "let me help you." 

Mike helps clean the mud and blood from his skin. Frank cringes anytime he moves. Ray helps him into the van and lets him crash in his lap.

At a truck stop outside of Atlanta, he slowly crawls out of the van and into the bathroom at the speed of a geriatric man. He turns in the mirror, examining his bruised cheek and split lip. He lifts his shirt. His jaw drops as he eyes the angry red and purple colors stretching across his side. He touches his skin and hisses as the pain burns deep into his skin. He drops the shirt and goes pee. The colors of his new bruises are the same as the ones in the sky. He gazes down and sees the off color water and feels a bubbling panic. 

He flushes and hobbles out to the other, "I think I need a doctor." 


	4. The strange hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank wakes up with a strange 'hat' on his head.

A snort wakes him from his midday nap and Frank groans. He stretches long in the oversized bed and rolls to the side, only to find Brock is missing. He frowns and sits up as a crown falls into his lap. He blink and blinks again, "What?" 

As he crawls from the bed, his eyes catch a white piece of paper on the dresser. He steps up a little tentative and reads in Brock's handwriting, 'come find me'

Frank pulls pants on and pads out of the bedroom. Quietly he moves into the hallway and can hear people speak in Italian and stops when he hears his name. He can hear Brook and Maria talking with Jack. He takes a breath as he steps into the room. He smiles at the trio, giving a little wave before he quickly moves out of the room. 

He checks the sitting room. No Brock. 

"Where the fuck would he hide?" Frank whispers. 

He pads down the hallway, peering in each room. He sees the large office at the end of the hallway and hesitates. The ember colored light spills out through a crack in the door. He knows that is no go zone. He stands at the frame and listens for Brock but hears his father's voice speaking in a low angered way. Turning on his heels, he moves the other way before he is seen. Last thing he needs is for that man to make him feel a certain way. 

He pushes the back sliding door open and moves out towards the flower garden. The wind pushing through the branches and leaves drowns out the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore below them.

Once he's outside of the house, he moves along to the pool towards it's little house and pulls the door open. He steps in and sees a note on the bar. "Fucker." Frank growls. 

He picks up the paper.

Gattino,

You're on the right track.

Love, B.

"I don't know what that means!" Frank groans and drops his head back. He puts the paper and leans against the counter. He sighs and drags himself out and into the garden. An idea hits him, the beach. He looks back at the house then heads for the waterfront. He walks along the sand looking for any sign of Brock. 

The sight of someone lying in the sand feels like a weight off his shoulder but as he gets closer he realizes, while it's an older man. Close to Brock's age, it's not in fact Brock.

He throws his hands up and rests them on his hips. The crown digging into his side, "I just don't know."

He storms back into the house and stands in the kitchen. "Where did he go?" Frank asks Brooke, Maria and Jack.

"Haven't seen him all morning," Jack replies with that devious smile. 

"He can come find me. I don't know what his vague clues mean." Frank groans and heads for their bedroom. He sits on the bed with arms folded and waits for Brock to give up.


	5. "And the Sea begins to foam"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After taking a beating, Frank takes a moment to enjoy the peace but it's quickly ruined.

He wanted to go home. He was unhappy. His body was aching from the beating he'd taken a couple weeks prior. Gerard comes and sits beside him quietly. Gee leans over and bumps his shoulder, "Vans all loaded."

"Sometimes, I think I wanna run head first into the water." Frank sighs.

Gerard chuckles, "And live with the fish?"

"Or let the ocean just swallow me up." Frank shrugs.

"Nah, she'd spit you back out." Gerard pats his back.

"The sea begins to foam and I rise from the waves." Frank sighs.

"The emo Cthulhu…" Gerard laughs. 

"Something like that." Frank snorts.

The sound of heavy feet trudging towards them pulls Frank out of the sense of peace and tenses. He already knows who is coming.

"Are we done having a sissy girl moment?" Alan hisses at them.

"Fuck off." Frank groans as he starts to rise. 

"Don't make me…" Alan threatens.

"I'm not in the mood for you… let's go." Frank says dusting the sand from his pants. He slowly moves up the sand and slides into the stuffy van. He scoots by the window and stares out as they take off. 

Six hours later and the van slows in front of a cheap motel. Frank looks to the others and wrinkles his nose. He can see the small pool the color of lime Jello. A window boarded over with plywood. The paint is chipping off and the smell of mold fills the air as they crawl out of the van. Alan moves into the office as they all sit on the curb. 

"We are gonna get robbed." Bob chuckles.

"Or worse." Ray sighs as he pinches his nose. 

Alan returns with keys and drops one in Ray's hand, "they only had two rooms. Someone has to sleep in the van… Frank." 

"What!!" Frank blurts.

"You gotta problem? You can walk to a new hotel…" Alan growls. 

"Whatever. I don't care." Frank sighs. He is just one step closer to quitting this damn band. He watches the others pick their bags up and trudge into their room as he sits on the bumper. 

As the sun sets, Frank crawls into the backseat and stretches out the best he can with a small blanket. A tap on the window makes him pop up, he see Ray and Mike with a huge grin. 

"We came to have a few beers and some green with you before bed." Mike says holding up a six pack, it's cheap beer. But it's better than nothing. Better than sober.

"We all kinda feel bad you're out here alone." Ray pats his shoulder as he crawls in.

"Thanks. It's lonely in here." Frank gives them a small smile.

Mike passes him a beer and smiles. The three men drink and laugh as Ray plays music from his phone. After the beer is gone and the weed is burnt, Frank is left alone in the van. He closes his eyes as he hums a Deftones song. His body feels good and he closes his eyes. 

As he drifts off the van door whirs open and the smell of whiskey fills his nose. He cracks his eye open and sees Alan standing there. 

"What?" Frank groans, he just wants to sleep.

"You think… you're better en me? You stupid faggot." Alan hisses, "I know you and Gee fuck in this van. Filthy little bastards." 

"What you jealous cause I'd never let you touch me?" Frank replies with a chill voice.

Alan leans in, "You're gonna die because of your disgusting choices."

"Probably!" Frank laughs, "Why you here man? Like imma go to sleep." 

"You can't keep your girlfriend happy enough to not fuck your friends… I'no she's fuckin two dudes." Alan slurs. 

"Shut up."

"Youdont tell me what to do!" Alan hisses and grabs Frank's ankle. 

Frank kicks him and lands the foot into Alan's shoulder. It takes seconds for him to realize his mistake as Alan rips him out of the van. His head cracks into the edge of the van then the cement below. He lets out a cry from pain before sitting up. Alan smashes his fist in Frank's jaw.

Frank throws a sloppy hit and lands it in Alan's shoulder. Alan hits him again and this time harder. He's not sure if he's seeing stars from the weed or the hit to his face. 

"I should make you suck my dick like the whore you are!" Alan spits at him. 

"I'd bite it off!" Frank snaps and hits him again.

Alan pushes Frank's head towards his crotch. Frank thinks quickly in his drug and drunk haze and headbutts Alan in the crotch. Alan groans and stumbles backwards. But only for a moment, Frank tries to get to his feet but Alan hits him again and gets him flat in his back.

"Just mad cause I won't fuck you!" Frank hisses as he throws a punch in Alan's side. A punch and a knee into his side steals the air from his lungs. Frank wheezes and tries to buck up as he tries to shout. Alan puts his hand over Frank's mouth before hitting him again and again. The hand covers his mouth and pinches his nose. "I'll make it look a strangers got you, you little piece of shit! Teach you to hit me!" 

Frank's heart races in his chest. He starts hitting and scratching Alan to get his hand from his mouth. He tries to squirm away but Alan is overpowering him. 

"I could kill you." Alan says with venom in his voice. He pulls his hand away, "But I won't. Don't you dare step out of line again or I fucking will!" Alan spits on him before getting up and stumbling to his room.

Frank lies flat and lets tears roll down his cheek. He wishes Alan would have just done it. 

After he centers himself, he crawls back into the van and cries himself to sleep. He hates his life. Everything is awful, he's never felt more alone.


	6. A Bullet Wound And A Friendly Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting beaten by the band manager, Frank wakes and makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in a different universe than the ITILY one. 
> 
> Also, thanks Winter for helping! 
> 
> Xo

Frank wakes up with a bright white light in his eyes. He can't breathe and claws at his throat because something is there and forcing air into his body. He violently hits the bed and panics as he glances to the side. He can see a mop of messy black hair.

Gerard pops up and presses a button, "Frankie! Calm down! It's okay! Nurses are coming!"

Frank can't calm down. The last thing he remembers is getting his ass kicked by Alan and lying in the back of the van. How did he get here?! What happened? Are the guys ok?

After getting the tube from his throat and being checked over throughout, Frank lies quietly in bed. He turns his head and looks to Gerard for answers. 

"What happened?" Frank asks with a gravelly voice.

"We found you in the van. You were unresponsive and barely breathing." Gerard says with a frown, "We couldn't wake you. So we called the ambulance. Your mom and him are on a flight out here."

"Alan did this." Frank croaks.

"What?"

"He beat the shit out of me. He came on to me or something like it and I got my ass beat. I was stoned. I couldn't fight well." Frank replies.

"No."

Frank sighs. Yeah. Your drug hookup did this. The two men fall silent and Frank dozes off. His dreams are nightmares. Being beaten. Falling. Losing someone he's never met before. 

He wakes in the morning next to a man with his leg in a sling. He can't tell if the man is asleep or not. He adjusts in his bed and groans. He glances over at the unhappy face on the man next to him.

"Hey." The man says with a small wave.

"Hi." Frank groans.

"James." He says with a soft voice.

"Frank."

"How'd you get here?" The man asks.

"Got the shit beat outta me." Frank replies, "You?"

"Got shot by some dickhead." James sighs.

"That sucks." Frank groans and rubs his head. He reaches for his phone and sends a message out to his mother and boyfriend.

'Huntington Memorial hospital. Rm 237.' 

He rests the phone on his chest and sighs as he turns his head, "Do you know who shot you?" 

"Oh, I do." James replies with a chuckle.

"Oh. Uh. Are you going to… what are you gonna do?" Frank asks curiously. He's unsure how to word his question.

"File a claim with HR."

"It was a work accident?!" Frank asks even more intrigued.

"Yeah." James sighs, "But I get a nice paid vacation for a few weeks. What about you? You know who did this to you?"

"Yeah but there's not a lot I can do… he's my boss." Frank groans trying to adjust on the plastic mattress.

"Fuck, your boss did this to you? I'd kill him… but I think that isn't really an option for you." James replies with a frown.

"Yeah. He's got at least three inches and a hundred pounds on me." Frank picks his phone up as it buzzes.

Brock: Ok. On my way. Love you.

Frank: Love you too. Be safe.

"That's rough. I'm sorry man." James says with a sigh, "I'd offer to kill him but I'm a little occupied."

Frank laughs and presses the medicine release button, "Nah, nothing comes for free. It'd come back and bite me in the ass."

"You're not wrong. I keep wanting to call you kid, Frank." James runs a hand in his hair.

"I probably am a kid. I'm always the youngest." Frank chuckles a little pained. He can feel the meds pushing in his veins and relieving the growing pain. He closes his eyes and listens to James reply but he's dragged into sleep.

Brock makes his way through the hospital, following the signs and the directions of the nurse he stopped earlier. Finally he locates the room his boyfriend is in. Because it is a hospital, he refrains from giving into the urge and barreling into the room, demanding to know what happened and stealing away the man he wanted to marry. He knocks twice before turning the handle and stepping inside.  
"Frankie?" Brock's voice is laced with worry and relief as he strides over to the bed. He barely registers the presence of another. "Oh my god, are you okay, baby? What the hell happened?"

Frank opens his eyes and feels relief at the sight of Brock. He takes a breath in and speaks softly unsure if his roommate is sleeping, "No, I'm not."

He is hesitant to confess everything but he knows it's for the best. He starts small, "Alan. He kicked my ass when I was inebriated." 

"That motherfucker," Brock growls. "I knew I shouldn't have let you go on this tour with him."

Frank lifts his hand for Brock's, "He started with his usual bullshit. Made me sleep in the van. I didn't take it; I talked back and called him on his bullshit."

"Not to interrupt you Frank but Brock Rumlow?" James pipes up with a raspy voice. He'd been pulled from his nap. He rubs his eyes and double checks that his eyes aren't deceiving him.

"Frank, wha-- Barnes?" Brock exclaims, shocked at seeing a teammate in the same room with his boyfriend. An injured teammate.

"Hey man! Small fuckin world! How've you been?" James grins and sits up a little more, "I feel like I haven't seen you in what a year?!" 

Frank looks to his boyfriend then roommate. He wrinkles his forehead a little confused. His face hurts. He sits quietly and listens to them.

"Sounds about right!" Brock grins wide. He moves over and shakes the man's hand. "How the hell have you been and what the hell happened?" 

"Sam happened. I've been good otherwise, working a lot. What have you been up to?!" James grins and shakes his hand.

"You guys know each other?!" Frank asks curiously.

"Brock and I go way back!" James grins at Frank.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. James Barnes, this is my boyfriend Frank Iero. He's in a band you'll probably never have heard of. Barnes and I served together," explains Brock.

"Oh! Gotcha! You can call me Bucky, Frank. Everyone does." James says with a smile, "We met but who would have thought you two knew each other!" 

"What a weird world!" Frank smiles softly. 

"So this Alan guy did this to him? And he's Frank's boss?" He asks looking to Brock then Frank. He raises an eyebrow.

"I knew he was bad news when I met him. But Frank insisted he would be fine because Alan has been their tour manager for several years," says Brock with a nod.

"He's not done this before." Frank adds, "Usually he's just all talk."

"I'm actually surprised you let him go alone…" Bucky says with a grown.

"I was overruled and assured things would be fine. Where was band security?" Brock asks Frank.

"Alan kinda… fired them." Frank says softly as he shrinks down in the bed a little, "We protested but he does what he wants. How else is he gonna get his hook up?"

"Maybe, you should start at the beginning…" Bucky suggests, looking at Brock. His friend looks good. He looks happy despite being pissed about the current situation.

"Good idea, Barnes," Brock says, turning to Frank. "Start from the end of your last show. What happened?" 

"The bus broke down. He made some comments. I told him to bite me. We got to the rat trap motel. Magically I was the odd man out. Ray and Mike came and uh… we got drunk and smoked. Then I settled in to sleep in the van. Alan came out, started talking shit, I replied. He pulled me out of the van and we fought after I said I'd bite his dick off. He beat my ass, threatened to kill me. I crawled back in the van and woke up here." 

"Jesus, he sounds like a creep." Bucky says quietly with a serious face.

"Yeah that's one way to put it," Brock grumbles. Anger rolls through him but he tries his best to dampen that. His boy was injured and that was more important. He sighs and takes Frank's hand.

"I'm happy you're here!" Frank says softly. Glad Brock glossed over the parts of the story he didn't want him to notice.

"Maybe you should have someone look into this Alan dude?" Bucky suggests.

"Oh don't worry, Barnes," Brock looks at him with a cold look in his eyes. "He'll be taken care of accordingly." 

Bucky nods, he knows exactly how Brock is and he knows this Alan dude is living on borrowed time.

"Don't kill him." Frank jokes nervously. Brock's tone makes him worry.

"I won't," Brock replies. "So. What did the doc say? What are they doing to do for you, tesoro?"

"I have a bad concussion. Bruised ribs. My kidney is bruised. They are concerned that I went into a coma." Frank speaks softly, "Fucker broke a tooth too." 

"He did a number on his face too." Bucky adds. A nurse quietly enters the room and he grins at her. She's a cute blonde with pink scrubs on. 

"Mr. Iero. Doctor Stevenson cleared you. Your scan showed no bleeding or swelling or fractures. I have some paperwork for you to take home." She smiles, "You're gonna want to consider quitting smoking, tobacco or the green stuff for your ribs and lungs sake."

Frank nods and prays for the lecture to be short, "Sounds great. How long till I am free to go?" 

"Half hour. Maybe less." The nurse smiles as she finishes removing his IV and the sticker on his chest, "I'll be back, Mr. Iero. Sit tight." 

Frank watches her leave then looks at Brock, "Guess we get to go back to the motel..." 

Brock nods, lips in a thin line with carefully controlled irritation and anger. "Perfect. I need to have a little talk with the others…."


	7. "It Was All A Lie"

Frank hears the front door slam and jumps a little. He steps into the hall and shouts for Brock but hears another door slam. His forehead wrinkles as he slowly moves towards the noise. He stops at Brock's door and knocks. 

"Babe?" Frank asks gently. He listens as he quietly waits for Brock to answer.

Suddenly the door flies open to reveal an enraged Brock. He steps aside and points to his desk. "In."

Frank blinks and steps in. He's confused but more concerned. He's not seen him like this before. "What's going on? Are you okay?" 

"Did you think I wouldn't fucking find out?!" Brock's voice raises, bordering on yelling as he snatches up a popular tabloid magazine from his desk and slaps it down in front of Frank. On the cover was a tagline mentioning the band. Angrily flipping it open, Brock points out the band photo spread across two pages. On one side next to Bob, is Frank holding a pipe.

"Drugs drive the death obsessed band apart? What?!" Frank chuckles. He picks up the tabloid and smirks as he skims the article. This article is so ridiculous that he forgets for a moment Brock is fuming. 

"How long have you been smoking again? After you promised me you wouldn't anymore, you have the audacity to go behind my back and do it anyway! Do I need to give you a drug test? Or should I just send you to rehab? Maybe that will fix this." Brock flips around his laptop where an open search page reveals the country's top celebrity drug rehab centers.

"I am not doing drugs. I don't need rehabilitation. This is a misunderstanding and not a big deal at all." Frank says softly as he closes the magazine and looks at Brock.

"Not a big deal?!" Brock raises his voice and slams a palm on the magazine. "You have a fucking pipe in hand, Frank! It can't be more obvious than that. The reporter said it was drugs. I swear to God I will fucking drug test you and the whole band."

"You're overreacting… it's just a prop." Frank finches at the sound of his hand hitting the magazine and desk. He fishes his phone from his pocket, "I can call Bob and he can tell you the same thing." 

Halting himself from speaking his next rant of words, Brock blinks and stares at Frank as his boyfriend's words register. "A… prop?" 

"Yeah. A prop. It's a guitar tuner. I have it in my guitar case." Frank tried not to smirk but isn't doing well at keeping it off his face.

"A guitar tuner? What the fuck is that and why the hell is it a drug pipe thing? The article said drugs…" Frowning, Brock straightens up and pulls away a little. He's still skeptical about the validity of Frank's statement over the article. He's not sure what to believe anymore.

"I'm not doing drugs. Hell, I am still not smoking cigarettes." Frank sighs a little,"Guitar tuner helps me make sure my strings are tight and sound good. It just kinda looks like a pipe." 

Brock can feel himself deflating a little. With a hesitant voice, he asks, "But the article….?" 

Frank stands up and motions to follow him. He's gonna prove that he's not doing anything bad. "Come." 

"Okay," he replies lightly, trailing behind his love. "I do like coming."

Frank snorts as he opens his guitar case and pulls out the cylindrical device and holds it in his hand like the photo. He remembers that day because Gerard and Ray had gotten into an argument, "See. Not a pipe. A prop. A tool. Its a lie." 

Brock takes the weird cylinder and turns it over in his hand. The realization that Frank was telling the truth and that he did overreact sinks in his stomach. "It was all a lie…. For the sake of an article? Why did they say such things about you? They didn't say anything nice about the band. Why did you let them take your pictures?" He hands back the device.

"I didn't know they took my photo. But a magazine in the UK hates us and tried to blame us for a few deaths over there and apparently, this rag is trying to bring that here. They called us a cult and poison." Frank says softly as he puts the device in his case and closes it. He rises to his feet and looks up at Brock.

Shoving his hand in his pockets, Brock has the grace enough to at least look sheepish and apologetic. "I'm sorry, baby. For assuming, accusing, and overreacting."

"It's okay. I know you just worry and hate drugs of any kind." Frank wraps his arms around Brock and smiles up at him, "Sure you don't wanna drug test me?" 

"I'm sure," he chuckles in reply. "Unless, of course, you are offering out of a guilty conscience? No? Okay, then how can I make this up to you?"

"Make me dinner and a bubble bath?" Frank looks up with a smile. 

"Deal, tesoro."


	8. An Encounter With A Deity

With the Ramones blaring in his ears, Frank walks down the street heading home. He was in a fantastic mood. The tattoo appointment went fantastic. They just signed another record deal. Things were going absolutely perfect in his relationship with Brock. He holds the shiny silver package of strawberry pop tarts in his hand as he takes a sip of his coffee as he stops and waits for the light to change.

Frank glances around as the hair on the back of his neck rises, there's a shift in temperature that sends a chill down his back. Before he can adjust to the change, a bright flash of white and gold fills the area around him. His body tenses for a moment then relaxes when nothing happens. He glances to the left then right and jumps at the sight of a tall and muscular man with long blonde hair beside him. He wasn't there before… right? Silver armour reflecting his face back at him as the red cape flutters in the wind. 

"Uh… hello Thor?" Frank manages out. He's seen pictures of Thor from the news and in Steve's house but he's yet to meet him. Thor is taller than he expected. 

"Hello. Thank you for the tribute." Thor says with a confident smile on his face as he takes the silver packet of delicious pastries. 

"That's..." 

Before Frank could get the words out another flash blinds him and the god of thunder is gone.

"Those weren't yours!" Frank shouts as he fumbles for his phone to text Brock and complain about the hijacked snack.


	9. "11 minutes away"

Frank's phone chirps and he immediately picks it up and checks it.

_ Jack: 11 Minutes Away. _

"Shit," Frank hisses, as he moves around the kitchen island. He clears the clutter from the counter as he nods at Ray who screws in the last lightbulb.

"Should be good to go, my dude." Ray says folding the ladder and moving it to the closet. 

"Gee are you all set in there?" Frank asks, glancing at Gerard in the living room with Mike and Maria. 

"Yup. Ready to go!" Gerard grins at Frank then looks to Maria. Her gorgeous smile lights up her face as she pulls her hair back. 

"We're ready, love." She speaks with a heavy Italian accent. Frank smiles wide. He watches Emilio step from the bathroom. His phone buzzes again. 

_ Jack: parked and in the elevators _

"Okay! Show time guys!" Frank grins as he waves everyone into the living room. Brooke, Mike, and Kristin stand beside Maria and Emilio. Ray grabs Christa's hand and pulls her to the group. Frank presses the button on his phone and turns all the lights off in the place. He listens to the mechanical door whirs and clicks as it opens.

"I just don't see the point in it. It's all red tape." Brock's voice fills the apartment. 

Frank can hear the concern in Brock's voice as he realizes the apartment was empty.

"Frankie?" Brock calls out. 

Frank listens to the light switch flip off then on and the lights come alive with a clean glow as Brock turns and faces the living room. 

"Surprise!" The group shouts to a wide eyed Brock. 

Frank grins as Jack pulls the cake from the counter with a single candle in the middle as the group begins singing Happy Birthday. 


	10. Discovering A New Gemstone

Frank sits comfortably in the chair and waits for Brock to return with the next candidate for a personal assistant. Ever since his accident, Brock's been home with him but he can't do that forever.  
Frank pulls a blanket over his lap and sits back carefully. 

"Baby, can you bring me a water?" Frank asks. He checks the clock and knows the next person will be there in the next five. Like clockwork, the doorbell rings. He listens to his love open the door and greet the interviewee. 

"Please, come on in," Brock's voice echoes in the foyer. "Please, have a seat in the living room. My husband is there waiting for you."

"Thank you so much!" She smiles at Brock with her hand out to shake his hand. 

"You're welcome." Shaking her hand, Brock leads her into the living room and motions for her to sit on the couch. He kisses Frank's cheek. "Did you need anything else besides some water?" 

"No. Im okay for now. Thank you baby." Frank kisses him back with a big smile.  
He turns to the lady in front of him and extends his arm to shake her hand. "I would stand but I am a little broken. But I'm Frank!" 

"It's nice to meet you, Frank! I'm Amethyst Collins." She takes his hand and shakes it.

"That is a pretty name! Please have a seat." Frank replies, as he smiles at her. She is cute. Long black hair, smooth dark brown skin that had a radiance that made her appear like she was glowing but it was her green hazel eyes that stood out to him. They were mesmerizing. 

"Brock should be here in a moment. How is your day so far?" Frank asks with a smile.

"Not too bad. I had a few school things to take care of but nothing much after that." She replies with a matching smile.

"Oh you're in school! That's great! What are you going to school for?!" Frank asks enthusiastically. 

Brock returns with two bottles of water in hand. He hands one to Frank before offering the other to Amethyst. "Want one?" 

"Oh! Thank you!" She takes the bottle and places it in her lap. 

"So what's this about school?" He asks before taking a seat next to Frank.

"Yeah, I am currently taking some classes. I'm working towards a Master's degree. I am just about done with my Bachelor's degree in criminal justice." Amethyst replies, taking a serious tone.

"Oh, what is your end goal?" Frank asks.

"I would like to be an attorney." She nods at him.

"So, why do you want this job?" Brock asks.

Amethyst pauses for a moment, "I like being useful. While I am a full time student, I don't feel like I am meeting my full potential by not working. And also, if I'm being honest, grad school is going to be expensive and I need the money to help pay for it."

Brock nods. "And what qualifies you, above the rest? What makes you stand out?"

"While it is not exactly the same, I was a caregiver for my grandmother before her passing. I ran errands for her. Helped her cook and clean. I feel like my compassion and dedication to my work is what makes me stand out. Also, the things some would consider gross do not bother me." Amethyst replies with a smile, "Oh I also worked as an assistant to a lawyer, so I can keep and navigate in a confidential setting as well."

"I'm so sorry about your grandmother's passing. Would you have any issues lifting something up to two hundred pounds?" Frank asks. He's not anywhere near that much but he didn't want to be specific about how small he was. 

"Thank you. And I would have no problem with lifting something up to that weight." She nods. 

"I play guitar in a band. Sometimes, you might have to accompany me to the recording studio, does rock music bother you?" Frank asks.

"No it doesn't. I've heard your music, it's not bad." She smiles.

"Amethyst gemstones are known for their associations with calmness, purity, clarity and peacefulness. Some cultures believe it even has healing properties. Do you feel you live up to your namesake in terms of temperament and personality?" Brock asks. "Or are you a more fiery personality?" 

"I would like to think that I have a nice balance. I know when to be calm and soothing but I am also able to be fiery when the moment is right," Amethyst grins.

"So you'd have no problem taking orders, no matter what they are, then? No desire to question or defy those orders? As someone who is a strong woman such as yourself, I would imagine you'd hate that part of being an assistant. You are a leader inside. Or would you say something else is the worst part?" Brock challenges.

"So depending on the order I was given, I will question them. I'm not going to commit a crime because I am told too. But if I am asked to empty the dishwasher because Frank can't or get the mail, I have no issues with that." Amethyst pauses for a moment, "As a strong woman, I know that at the end of the day, you are my boss and I should follow orders, no matter how much of a leader I am. But that's not the worst part of the job. Being viewed as just the help and not a person is the worst part." 

"I know my words won't mean much right now unless they are proven," Brock begins soft but firmly, "but I can assure you that will never be the case here. We do not see color the same as most do. We care about all of our staff as people and their aspirations. Should you be hired, what you do and who you are is what matters. Not what you look like. There is only one race: The human race. Anybody who says otherwise is an idiot." 

"Also, we know that you would have a life outside of this place and would be respectful of that unless it's an emergency." Frank nods.

Amethyst smiles, "Thank you. You have a lovely home and it would be great to work with you both." 

"Do you have any questions for us?" Frank asks, slipping a hand into Brock's.

"I know that the job is a personal assistant but what exactly would I be doing?" She asks softly, "Because you're not an 80 year old woman and I want to know what I can do to help."

Brock chuckles and jokes, "I am pretty close though, eh?"

"She said 80 year old woman, dear. Not a hundred." Frank teases. 

Amethyst smirks but quickly regains composure.

"Ouch," Brock grins. He laughs softly before turning back to Amethyst. "Frank has 4 broken ribs and is on bed rest and minor movements for the next several weeks. He's going to need help with everything."

"Oh honey, I am so sorry! That is miserable!" Amethyst drops her professional demeanor for a moment, "But I am more than willing to help him with whatever he needs."

"Thank you for coming to meet us today! It was great to meet you!" Frank grins at her.

"Oh, one more thing," adds Brock. "How are you with kids?" 

The sound of a baby crying fills the house.

"I love kids! Especially babies!" She grins genuinely as her eyes twinkle a little.

"Excellent." Brock rises to go attend to the baby. "One of us will be in touch within the next day or two. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Collins. Allow me to walk you out?"

"Thank you so much for having me. I look forward to your call!" She rises to her feet and offers her hand to Frank again, "Take care of yourself!"

After Brock lets her out of the house, he goes into the nursery to pick up their newborn son. Rocking him gently, he returns to Frank.  
"So. Amethyst seems to be a gem. What do you think?"

"I like her. She seems like a good fit." Frank grins at the baby, "A rock solid candidate."


	11. A Pool Table, A Wager And An Angry Bartender

Frank returns to Brock with his drink in hand. 

"Thank you, baby," Brock says with a wide grin. The bar was packed tonight and Brock didn't want to step away from his pool game lest he finds his spot taken. Jack leaned down over the table as he lined up his shot. Aiming for the 9 ball, Jack pulled the cue back and took the shot. The white ball spun hard as it traveled, hitting and rocketing off the wall and careening into another set of balls before it slowly came to a stop at the 9. The targeted ball slowly moved the last few centimeters it needed to drop into the pocket.

"Well done," Brock praises as Jack hoots and takes a drink. He mimics his brother and pulls Frank close, kissing his cheek.

"Thank you, thank you," gloats Jack as he lines up his next shot. It's short lived, however, as he misses wildly. "God damnit." 

"Better luck next time," Brock smirks. Setting his drink aside, he moves to take his turn.

Frank smirks as he takes a sip of his drink, he slips his arm around Brock. He loves seeing his boys be competitive. "I bet Brock's gonna sink the next one." 

He takes a look around the bar and sees two men, maybe in their thirties with jeans and flannels eyeing Brock and Jack. The gaze reminded him of a wildlife documentary as a predator watches potential prey. His fingers dig into Brock's side, "We've got eyes." 

Brock follows Frank's gaze and lands on the two men. He gives them an easy smile and raises his glass in acknowledging salute. Taking a drink, he pushes off their table next to the pool and grabs his cue. "Maybe lay off the rum, eh, little brother? You're getting sloppy."

Jack snorts and pushes a stray curl out of his face. "Please. It's got nothing to do with the drinks nor am I sloppy. I just got a little distracted. Don't worry, I'm still going to wipe the floor with you."

"We'll see," retorts Brock as he walks the table and plans his strategy. Decision made, he leans over the table and lines up his shot.

"I can get you some coffee, Rollins if you need to sober up to win?" Frank smirks at Jack before taking a sip of his drink. His gaze falls on the two men, something about the men was off. He couldn't put his finger on it. They are trouble. 

"Shouldn't you be rooting for your man," Jack chuckles. "Traitor. I love it. Come to the darkside."

"Oh I want my man to win but I also want it to be a fair fight." Frank replies as he leans over and kisses Brocks cheek. 

"And here I thought you just liked me better," grins Jack, taking a drink.

"Please," Brock snorts as he pulls the cue back. "I'm better and he knows it." He snaps the cue forward and strikes the white ball, sinking his target.

"That's my man." Frank grins then looks back to Jack, "Don't get my wrong. I love you but I love him..." 

"As it should be," concedes Jack with a fond smile.

One of the flannel clad men walk over and place a small stack of quarters on their pool table. "I'll play winner." 

Frank takes a step to Brock and puts his husband between him and the men.

"Thanks for the offer, but we'll pass. We prefer to play each other," Brock says to the man.

"This guy speaks for you," the man challenges Jack.

"Only when I agree with his statements."

Frank smirks but takes a drink again. He loves Jack and his snarkiness.

The man sneers, "Even if we put a little wager on the outcome? See, my buddy Dave here is the best there is. Never lost a game."

Brock hums and turns to the second man who's remained quiet against the bar wall. "I suppose you're Dave."

Dave nods and joins his friend.

"What's the bet?" Frank asks curiously. He knows that Brock and Jack can clean these idiots out. He touches Brock's arm.

"How about $100?" Dave offers. He's got a bit of a southern accent. "Hundred from each of us; makes the pot a sweet $400. What you think, Jim?"

"Four hundred is a mighty fine idea, Dave," drawls Jim with a sneer.

"You sure you can afford that, boys," Jack smirks.

Frank leans up and whispers in Brock's ear, "Kick their asses, baby." He presses lips to Brock's cheek. He steps to the side and moves out of the way for his hubby or Jack to fill the space. These two doofuses didn't look like they had two nickels to rub together.

"Alright," Brock says. "We'll accept your challenge." He glances at Jack, whose eyebrow is raised. A look is passed between them and Jack nods. They begin to clear and reset the table.

"Don't get butt hurt when they win." Frank says looking at the one claiming to be Dave.

Dave scoffs. "By the end of the night, you boys will be wiping the floor with your asses trying to earn back enough to pay your tab. I'm gonna clean you out."

Jack turns to Dave and looks at him with a raised eyebrow and a bemused expression. "You get that from a bad B movie? Cause you sound a little cliché, bud."

"Nah, Jack. Clearly he's just stuck in the oldies. Man's never heard of plastic nowadays. Or virtual wallets," Brock smirks as he finishes setting the rack in place. He steps back and addresses Jim. "We play as teams. Flip a coin to see who goes first to break. That team is either solids or stripes. Winner takes the cash."

"We know how to play," snarls Jim, pulling out his money. He sets it on the table's edge. "I showed you mine. Now show me yours." 

"Kinky," Brock comments as he extracts a bill from his wallet. 

Frank snickers as he softly speaks to Jack, "It's like watching real life roadhouse with corny villians..." 

"Right," he whispers back to Frank. He pulls out his own $100 and hands it to Brock.

Once the cash is collected from all four men, Jim pulls out a quarter. "Call it." 

"Heads," Brock says.

The quarter lands on the table. Heads up.

"Nice one baby!" Frank says with a huge grin.

"I want Jack to break," Brock says. He steps aside for his brother to take the first shot.

Frank leans against the wall and watches Jack aim and break. He can't help but smile as a solid green ball falls into a pocket. He watches Jack sink another one then miss his shot. Brock pats his back and moves to give the townies their turn.  
The game goes smoothly until the two strangers begin to lose. Brock and Jack cheer each other on and begin to win.  
As the yokels take their turn, Brock invades his space and lifts his chin to kiss him. Frank grins against his lips and slips his hands under Brock's shirt and over his hips.

"I love you, baby." Frank whispers. He can hear a snide comment from the guy who called himself Jim. The other man cusses and slams his cue against the side of the table as his ball doesn't move where he planned. Frank flinches and grips Brock's skin. 

Brock smirks softly and gently rubs Frank's back to calm him. Kissing him chastely, he moves to take his turn. "Everything alright, boys?" 

"Being a queer to throw us ain't working…" Jim growls as he chugs the last of his beer. His eyes focus on Frank and glare. 

Frank snorts. He watches Brock chalk his cue and take his shot. He misses the shot but shakes it off and comes back. Frank speaks soft enough for Brock to hear, "I have a bad feeling." 

"It'll be okay, tesoro," Brock whispers before stealing another kiss.

"Okay." He nods before giving him a small smile. 

"Something's fishy." Dave says to Jim as he passes him. He glares at Frank then Brock and Jack as they talk quietly. 

Jack hangs out with Brock and keeps a close eye on Dave. As the one who's supposed to be so good that he's never lost a game, Dave sure is having a rough night. He wonders briefly if these two are professional hustlers and had intended to cheat them out of their money. Too bad it seems like they've bitten off more than they can chew. He knocks back the last of his rum, all the while watching the table and planning his next shot.

"Bet you they share the little one… all homos are like that." Dave says low but it's loud enough for Frank's ear to catch it, "Take your shot." 

Jim aims but his shot sends the cue ball off the table at Frank, "you seem to be good with balls, you can put that back." 

Frank's mouth drops open. 

"Jim, we should thrown him in with the bet too. I heard all them queers are good at cleaning the pipes…" Dave chuckles at his friend and moves to a corner. 

"Im… I'm not a prize." Frank manages to get out in his shock.

"Sure you are… how much you charging them?" 

Jim chuckles with a dark look on his face, "Better charge double since they are cheatin' to win." 

Frank just blinks. He's actually shocked they went there… "I'm not." 

"My boyfriend is not a hooker," Brock says darkly.

"Nor am I gay,” adds Jack. "But you might wanna ask your mom since I was probably banging her last night."

Frank laughs. 

"My mom is dead, asshole." Jim says with a straight face.

"Good for her. It's probably such a relief to be away from your ugly mug and shit for brains."

Jim takes two large steps towards Jack, "what did you say?!" 

"It's your turn," Jack comments lightly.

"Jim. Don't." Dave warns, "Go." 

"Yeah, Jim. It's your turn." Frank says with an annoyed tone.

"I think I'm up after, yeah," Brock asks Jack, casually.

"Yeah. You wanna sink the 8 when we win or did you want me to do it?"

Brock pretends to think. "Think I wanna do it. Since I'm older and all."

"Yeah okay. Whatever," Jack chuckles.

Frank watches an angry Jim take his shot and come up just shy of the pocket. "Motherfucker!" He hits the table with his hand.

"Temper, temper." Frank says with a mocking tone.

"Frank's right, Jimbo. The more angry and inebriated you are the more you'll keep missing those shots," Brock drawls as he steps up to the table with his cue. 

Jim flips Brock off and throws himself in the chair, "why don't you get me another drink, boy?" 

"Excuse me?" Brock whirls around and growls at Jim. "My partner is not a servant. Or a hooker and does not listen to you. Mind your own fucking business before I make you my business."

Jim stands up and stands close to Brock, "I don't think you really want to take that tone with me, old man…"

"And you don't know who you are messing with, boy. Show some respect and quit being a pussy sore loser."

Jack moves closer to Brock. "Brock. Brother. Ignore this full and take your turn before I steal it. I'd rather not spend all night playing these folks. The cute bartender has my eye. Come on. Let's play." 

Frank touches Brock's arm, "Baby. Jack's right."

"Yeah, Brock." Jim mocks Frank.

Brock turns, picks up his cue and sinks the last three balls in quick succession. He's tired of playing games. Giving them a side glance, he lines up the 8 ball. After calling it, he shoots. He scores. Game over. "I think I'll be taking my $400 and calling it a night, boys."

"Cheatin' fag." Jim spits as he shoulder checks Frank as he moves to put his cue up.

"What, you can't believe you just got schooled so you resort to low level insults? Shame." Brock grabs the cash off the table.

"I don't get schooled! You and your butt buddies cheated!" Jim moves in on Brock quickly. He's inches from him with his breath pushing Brock's hair slightly. He grabs the money from his hand. As he turns to move away he barrels into Frank and knocks him to the floor. 

Jack quickly grabs Frank and pulls him out of the way just in time for Brock to grab Jim, turn him around and throw a right hook into his face. "I warned you, asshole." 

Dave goes for Jack, swinging the pool cue and cracking him across the shoulders. 

Frank moves further away as he watches Jim hit Brock in return then hit him again for good measure. He can hear the bartenders shouting as circle forms around them. 

Brock recovers quickly and uses his body to crowd Jim, throwing punches in quick, short succession. He bounces on his toes, moving to the side before punching him again.

Jack whirls, snatching the cue stick from Dave, and uses it as a baseball bat. He swings for Dave's stomach, chest, and face.

"Enough!" A short blonde bartender shouts as she pushes her way through the crowd with a shotgun in hand. She racks it, "Get the fuck out of my bar before I send you home in body bags!"

Brock and Jack immediately step aside from Jim and Dave with their hands raised. Still keeping his hands up, Brock turns to the bartender and points at Jim with one finger. "We played for cash. I won. He stole my money. Called me a cheat. Threatened my partner." 

"He also shoved me. Twice." Frank adds.

"pay your tabs. Get out." She aims the shotgun at the other men, "I can call the cops if you can pay for the damage and leave for the night, Rumlow."

"You know I'm good for it, Ellen. I'll gladly take you up on your offer. You can have the $400 I won fairly from Jimbo here." Brock glares at the man.

Jim makes a move for Brock but get a shotgun barrel in his chest.

"Get out. And don't come back." Her voice low with anger backing the words.

Jim steps back with hands up, "Fine. Your bar sucks anyways, you dumb bitch." 

"Word of advice, asshole," Jack interjects. "Maybe don't insult the lady with a gun? Unless you got a death wish or don't like your balls."

"She won't do shit, might chip her pretty nails." Dave hisses throwing a $20 on the table.

"Jack's right." Ellen says as she lowers the gun and fires at the ground right by their feet, "Next shot is aiming for the beans and sausage. Now get the fuck out!" 

"Don't forget to give her the $400," adds Brock.

Jim throws the money at them and follows his friend out the door. As the door closes the room's mood lightens and Frank takes a breath in. 

"You're just so pretty Rumlow that all the boys wanna fight over you." Ellen pats his shoulder, "And Jack, Joanna… the new girl is way outta your league and my kid." 

"Now that's just hurtful, Miss Ellen," Jack says, putting his hand over his chest. "You don't want me around your gorgeous daughter, alright. But cut me some slack. She's not outta my league. I've got game."

Brock snorts and picks up the $420 off the floor and hands it to Ellen. "Please ignore his dorkiness. This going to be enough for the damage?"

"Jack, darling. My daughter saw you coming a mile away. She knows your type." Ellen turns from Jack to Brock, "Two hundred should cover it and buy a round for the bar. Go see if Jo will clean up your face."

"Frankie, you okay, sugar?" She asks him.

"Yes ma'am." Frank smiles as he slips his hand into Brock's. 

"Get cleaned up, finish your drinks and go home. I'll see you tomorrow." She pockets the money.

"Yes ma'am."

Never argue with a woman holding a gun.


	12. A Terrifying Sound Coming From The Kitchen

"Baby, do you want anything?" Frank asks as he pads towards the kitchen. He wants something sweet. Maybe salty. He pulls the pantry door open and peers in, "Maybe we could do popcorn with m&ms in it!" 

He pulls the box where the bags of popcorn should be and frowns at the empty box, "Nevermind."  
He is aware that Brock is not listening. He pulls out different snacks but nothing sounds good. He grumbles because he is short and can't reach the stuff on the back of the shelf at the top. He gets a grip on the air popper and pulls it towards him. 

Before he can do anything else a black speck falls from the device and lands on his shirt. His eyes catch the eight little legs scurrying across his chest. With a shriek, he drops the air popper and rips his shirt off. He throws it to the ground and watches the spider hurry into the pantry.

"BROCK!" Frank shouts as he climbs up on the counter, "Fuck! Help! Brock!" 

Brock rushes into the kitchen. "What?! Are you okay?!" 

Frank points into the pantry as he shouts, "Get it! Kill it!" 

"Careful! Baby, it's huge!" Frank whines as he pulls his feet up on the counter.

"What is it, baby? Rat?" Brock moves for the pantry door.

"A tarantula!" Frank says standing on the counter as Brock gets closer.

"Okay. Just… gimme a minute." Brock moves and looks around for some tupperware he can use to capture the spider.

Frank watches the pantry with his hands in his hair. "It crawled on me… oh god. What if it laid babies on me?" 

"Sweetheart, it did not lay babies on you. Just try to relax, love." Brock grabs a plastic bowl down and goes back to the pantry. He opens the door and searches for the uninvited guest. 

"It attacked me..." Frank says before he holds his breath as Brock goes in.

"I believe you," he replies lightly as he moves the jar of peanut butter aside. "Got your phone on you? I could use some light." 

Frank pulls his phone out and steps closer on the counter to shine light into the pantry. "Better?" 

"Thanks. Which shelf did you see it run to?" Brock asks as he crouches down.

"Ground floor." Frank says with a shaky voice, "It's probably in our room by now!" 

"We have to move. We are being invaded…" Frank says firmly. 

"Will you re- oh shit! There you are!" Brock exclaims as he locates movement behind the ziplock bags and trash bags. 

"I told you! It's huge!"

With quick reflexes, Brock slams the plastic bowl up against the wall of the pantry and slowly slides it. "Gotcha!" 

"Careful! It's mean!" Frank says stepping back, still on the counter.

"It's hungry and scared." Tapping the wall hard, he gets the spider to jump down into the bowl's base. 

"It can find food in hell, where it belongs!" Frank hisses.

Quickly, Brock scoops up the bowl and stands, using his hand to cover the plastic dish. "Nah, just outside. He's little by the way. Not a tarantula at all. Damn thing is smaller than a penny. You could've just squashed it, silly goose. Wanna open a window for me?"

Frank frowns and climbs off the counter and opens the window. He watches Brock move towards him and makes an ick sound as he quickly runs to the opposite side of the room.

Chuckling, Brock moves to the window and leans out, carefully depositing the tiny arachnid onto the brick before giving it a helpful "nudge" towards the ground in the form of a flick. He watches it scurry and disappear into the grass before closing the window and latching it. Picking up the bowl, he turns to Frank with a grin. "All gone. You're safe, baby." 

"So, I'll start looking for a new house." Frank says, with crossed arms and a worried look on his face.

"There's no need." Brock moves to him and wraps his arms around Frank's waist. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure some lizard is going to eat him soon. I saw one on the rose bush. He looked pretty hungry too. Circle of life and all. Never mind that spiders kill bugs and are useful pest control. Don't worry though, I've got your back."

"Thank you… maybe we can move to Alaska. It's too cold for spiders there."

"And also too cold for Brocks. You want to keep your husband, yes?"

"Yes. But… bugs." Frank frowns.

"That's what you have me for. And the maid. I'll do the squishing. She keeps the house clean so they don't take up residence. If so, they better start paying me rent." Brock chuckles at his little joke before leaning down and kissing Frank.

Frank returns the kiss, "Dork, I didn't know your dad moved in." Brock laughs and shakes his head.  
He leans up and kisses him again, "Thank you, my hero."


	13. "It's Not Human"

Frank: BUT BROCK! Please! 

Brock: No. 

Frank: I swear, I will take care of it! 

Brock: And when you go back on the road?

Frank: It can come with! Daddy and baby can come along! 

Brock: Frank. No. 

Frank: We can get it cute little outfits. Matching jammies! Plllleeeaassee?!?!

Brock: Retire and I'll say yes.

Frank: 😢

Brock: Why does a dog need pajamas?!

Frank: she might get cold!

Brock: it's a dog, Frank. 

Frank: it's my baby dog.

Brock: It's not human. It doesn't need pajamas. 

Frank: does this mean...yes?! Cause you'll have to prove to me that it's not a baby.

Brock: ….  
Brock: No! 

Frank: But what if you mean, yes?

Brock: Frank.

Frank sits on the couch with the caramel colored dog on his lap, he tucks his phone under his leg. He strokes her soft fur behind her ears. "Daddy will love you. How could he not! Look at your little face, sweet baby! He even said you were pretty when I showed him your picture." 

He presses a kiss to her cold nose and continues to pet her.


	14. All The Clocks Stop At 2:50

Lying in bed next to Brock, Frank lets out a satisfied sigh. He turns his head and presses his lips to Brock's cheek. "You make me feel safe," Frank whispers.

"Good. That one of the things I want, is you to be and feel safe." Brock replies as he presses lips to his forehead. His arms wrap tighter around Frank. 

"I gotta get up and head to the recording studio. Did you wanna go with me?" Frank asks softly as he kisses Brock's cheek then his lips. He runs a hand over his love's chest. 

"I can. How long are you guys recording for today?" Brock asks as he pulls him even closer.

"A few hours. You should bring your gym stuff and go when you get bored of hearing us whine into a microphone." Frank grins wide as Brock kisses the scorpion on his neck. He lets out one more happy relaxed sigh. 

"This is why I love you. You're smart and sexy," Brock whispers in his ear. 

After a few more kisses, they get out of bed and head out the door. As they make their way towards the studio, Frank turns the radio on and grins wide as the radio plays a dramatic county love song about being shamelessly in love. He looks to Brock and starts singing loud. 

Frank watches the serious and annoyed look on Brock's face melt into a huge smile as he laughs. Frank glances back to the road in time to see a car running the red light slam right into his side. He can feel his whole body rock and something inside of him snaps as his brain screams in pain.  
He can hear Brock speaking but he can't hear the words. He can't breathe. He tries to speak but he can't. He can taste the iron in his mouth as black spots dance in his vision. Brock pulls him into his arms and cradles him. He tries to speak but he can't, only a wet gurgle comes out. 

"No! No! No, baby please. Stay with me, baby!" Brock pleads with him as he struggles to keep his eyes open. Blackness takes over.

Frank shoots up from the bed with a gasp. He turns to Brock as tears pour from his eyes. He turns into Brock and sobs. Big strong arms hold him tight and shush his sobs as Brock whispers that he's safe. 

"I-I don't want to go…" Frank sniffles, "I can't. I don't want to lose you." 

"Okay. That's fine with me. We can stay home." Brock whispers as Frank clings to him. The echo of the nightmare, still vivid in his memory.


	15. A Cop, A Boat And A Dangerous Bird

Frank sits at the back of the boat with his head between his knees. The last wave really threw him off and made him stomach sour. He stared at the white gleaming floorboards and prayed the feeling would pass. 

"Are you okay, baby," Brock calls to Frank from the helm. He steers his yacht away from some rocks. Dropping down the speed, he cuts the engine and makes his way over to his sick passenger. 

"Just a little seasick." 

"I might have some Dramamine below deck?" Brock kneels in front of Frank and gently runs a hand through his hair.

Frank looks at him with a soft smile, "If it's okay with you, yeah I need it, I can go get it...." 

"No, baby, I'll get it. You stay here." Rising to his feet, he kisses the top of Frank's head before making his way down below and rummaging through the medicine cabinet.

Frank closes his eyes and tries to not be on a boat. He can hear the water slapping against the sides of the boat. He tries to slow his breathing. He is usually steady and not sea sick. As he exhales the sound over a plane over head gets louder and louder. 

The sound becomes so loud that he is forced to look up. As he does, a passenger plane flies overhead. It looks low enough that he could touch it, if he were taller.

He follows the plane as it slams into the water. 

"Brock!! Oh my god. We need to call the… uh. The water police!" Frank rises to his feet and fights through the nausea.

Brock runs up, still holding Frank's nausea meds. The tail end of the plane slowly sinks below the crystalline sea water. Without hesitation, he shoves both his phone and the meds into Frank's hands. "Here. Call for help!"

Seconds later, Brock dives over the edge of the yacht and into the water. 

"Brock!" Frank screams watching his love disappear into the water. Frank fumbles with the phone and he calls for help. He stammers out their location. He paces the boat as it rolls in the waves. His fingers push into his hair. 

"Come on Brock. Damn it." Frank growls as he keeps his eyes on the spot where he went in, "Fucking surface!" The seconds feel like hours as he waits for Brock to come up. The boat gets rocked a little harder and his stomach drops. Frank folds over the side and throws up. He groans and stands. He wants to go back to the house. 

Brock dives down and swims hard after the quickly sinking plane. He hasn't seen anyone evacuate the metal trap and he fears the worst for the pilot. He's worried he won't be able to reach the plane and lose the people inside. The thought spurs him to swim harder, faster. 

Suddenly the plane is right there in his face. He's reached the bottom of the sea floor. The first level at least since it appears the nose of the plane is resting on the precipice of a rock cliff. His lungs tell him he doesn't have much time. Swimming for the door, Brock prays the plane is either empty or that anyone trapped inside is still alive. He doesn't have much time.

Frank groans as he looks up and sees a boat in the distance with flashing lights on it. He takes a breath in but can't relax until he knows Brock is safe. The coast guard boat slows as it approaches the yacht.

"Dov'è l'aereo? Sei ferito?" A man calls out to him. Frank points to the water. 

"My husband dove in after it… he hasn't come up. I don't know…" Frank replies. He understands what's being said but his brain can't process the words. 

Brock races to the door, finding it undamaged from the crash. Inside, the pilot is frantically trying to get out of the buckle. The pilot's right leg is bleeding heavily from a gash across his thigh but otherwise appears unharmed. He pulls the door open and helps the man get free. It appears that there is no one else in the plane so he wraps one arm around the injured pilot and begins to swim up. Just in time, too, because his brain and lungs were starting to scream at him in panic. He kicks hard for the surface; for Frank. Just as he thinks he's going to lose the fight, his head crashes through the water and he sucks in precious air. Next to him, the pilot gasps and coughs.

"Brock!" Frank shouts and rushes to the edge as the coast guard shouts at Brock. He snaps his head to the water cop and glares slightly.

Coughing a little, Brock swims with the pilot over to the coast guard's boat and helps the man climb out. His limbs are exhausted from the dive so his return to his yacht- and Frank- is slower than he'd like. He hauls himself up the ladder and onto the deck, panting hard. He collapses and just lies there, tired. 

Frank sits beside Brock and grabs his hand. "You okay, baby?!" He can hear the fear in his own voice. 

"Yeah just tired," Brock replies, exhausted. He pants hard and fights the burning in his lungs.

"I was starting to get worried." Frank speaks softly as he takes Brock's hand and kisses the top of his hand, "The water cop is gonna want you to get checked out…"

Chuckling lowly, Brock forces himself to move and get up off the floor of his deck. "Water cop. That's both cute and accurate." 

"Baby, you should sit. You're shaking." Frank rises and sits on the bench seat, "Also I don't think our water cop friend speaks English." 

"I'll talk to him in a moment." Brock exhales before wrapping an arm around Frank's shoulder and pulling him in. Brock kisses his forehead. Frank takes his hand and follows him to talk to the coast guard and check in on the pilot.

After the officers get Brock's statement and urge him to go get checked out. They are free to go. Frank stays close by Brock forgetting that he was sea sick. Instead, he worries until they get back home and curls up on the couch after Brock showers. 

"Did you get your diving skills from work or being a fish as a child?" Frank asks with a playful smile before kissing Brock. The question brings a chuckle from his love and a strong hand strokes his back. 

"Both." 


	16. Frank Gets Mind Controlled

"Well, I don't think mind control is a thing." Frank says with a shake of his head. He watches Steve and Brock exchange a look, "What, unless there is some kind of magic involved. It's not real."

"Or some form of hypnosis," Brock challenges.

"Sorry babe, but I don't think hypnosis is a thing…" Frank shrugs before crossing his arms over his chest. He watches Steve cover his smile with his fingers. "I'm sure that you have something from work that uses a light beam from Jupiter to change the molecules in the air of a room to make him suggestible but there's no such thing as good old fashioned carney hypnosis that will make me act like a cat or chicken, for real." 

"So you're saying that a big portion of my job is a lie," smirks Brock.

"No. I think that there is more to what you do than waving a pocket watch and saying 'you're feeling sleepy…', unless you are in fact, a carney using smoke and mirrors…" Frank raises an eyebrow, "but I'm not interested in your snake oil, sir." 

Frank smirks as he thinks, 'Just your snake…'

"But you said that mind control wasn't real."

"It's not. Not one hundred percent pure mind control. I'm sure you guys have gasses that make your targets easily swayed." Frank says with a nod, "It's along the same lines as wishful thinking and karma. Fun ideas but not real." 

Steve shakes his head. "I don't know. But I can think of several people who would disagree with you. Bucky included. Nat. A lot of good people who fell on the wrong side of HYDRA would tell you it was real. That's not magic. Not like Loki and his scepter was."

Every time Brock hears Steve say HYDRA, he feels incredibly thankful he and Rogers have gotten past his past. Thankful that they've managed to find a balance and work towards a semblance of friendship. Still, he often wonders if Rogers holds some resentment towards him. He pushes aside his thoughts in favor of making a joke to lighten his mood. He smirks, "I dunno Cap. Sounds to me like he's asking for a demonstration. A personal demonstration."

"Yeah. If it's real, then yeah, I am." Frank snorts. He's aware that HYDRA tortured and brainwashed people as a form of control. He believes that is real, he's met James. He loves Nat, "I'm not asking for the clockwork orange torture mind control…"

"Maybe that's not such a good idea," hedges Steve. "There's side effects and long-term damage can occur."

Now Brock knows for sure Steve is referring to Barnes. And yes he may have had a hand in keeping the Winter Soldier under control when they were in the field but the damage that scrambled Barnes' brain wasn't from him or the Faustus method, but from the shock therapy. Any time you electrocute the brain, damage will be done. He turns to Steve and gives him a look. "What you don't trust me?"

"I do. With my life." Frank nods, "I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"Oh I know you do, baby. Besides the worst that I'll do to you is make you an actual kitten." He grins wide at the idea.

Rolling his eyes with a smile Frank replies, "Mhmm...sure you will baby. Maybe you can make Santa come down the chimney too… both of you come sit down."

After dinner filled with light conversation, Frank says bye to Steve and watches Brock walk him to the door. He starts rinsing the dishes and cleaning up after them. He puts the leftovers in a tupperware then refills Brock's wine and sits on the couch. He curls his legs up tight against his body. He runs a hand through his hair and over his face before resting his head on the back of the couch. He watches Brock's back with a little anticipation in his body.

"You okay, baby?" Brock asks.

"Mmm I think so. Just wanting my love to cuddle." Frank purrs with a smile wide. He pats on the couch. He reaches an arm over the back of the couch and stares at Brock as his fingers trace along the decorative table with pictures and a small bowl for keys. Following an urge, he nudges the bowl with a finger. Then gives it another push and listens for it to clatter to the floor at Brock's feet. 

Brock's lips pull into a thin line as he tries to suppress a smile. Thankfully the bowl is plastic as it drops to the hard floor and rolls a little, right to his feet. He bends down and picks it up. "Everything okay?" 

"Yeah! Why wouldn't I be?" Frank sits up a little more and watches Brock put the bowl back. Why did he just do that? That's weird… right? 

"Well it seems you felt rather hostile towards this bowl so I was wondering if there was… something bothering you. That's all."

"No. I totally feel fine. Great!" Frank grins. He bites his lip. "I picked the bowl out, why would I feel hostile towards it?"

He eyes the bowl and fights the urge to push it off the table again. Instead he focuses his attention on Brock. 

"Because you don't want it on the table, huh," Brock smirks.

"Come sit with me…" Frank sighs and pats the pillow. He runs his nails along the cushion and enjoys the feeling, "What are you doing?!" 

Annoyed and growing impatient with Brock, Frank rises from the couch and marches over in front of him, "Forget about the dumb bowl. You've been gone all week. I've missed you and need you." His arms extend up and reach for Brock's neck. He interlocks his fingers and hops up, wrapping his legs around his waist.

"Oh you need me?" Brock smirks. "In what way?" 

"All of them…" Frank whispers in his ear as he rubs his cheek against Brock's neck, "Please touch me." His nails dig into Brock's skin but not deep enough to hurt him.

"But I am touching you." Brock rubs his back. He's teasing of course to see how far he can push Frank.

Frank nuzzles Brock's neck before he presses his lips to the same spot. He nips at Brock's ear and fights the urge to growl? What the fuck? He says nothing and holds on to Brock and kisses his lips.

"I love you, baby," Brock murmurs in his ear. He kisses him once more before sitting down with Frank in his lap.

Frank presses his body into Brock and kisses him a little deeper. His fingers push into Brock's hair, he can't get enough of him. He hates that Brock has to leave him. He trails kisses down Brock's neck. He nips and sucks at his skin as he grinds into him. He pulls back slightly and whispers, "Love you more." 

He moans softly before kissing Frank. He whispers against his lips, "I love you mostest. Cause you're such a good gattino."

Something shifts in Frank's head, he doesn't want to be touched. He acts without thinking and bites Brock's lip. He pushes Brock away and lets out a little hiss. He slides off his lap and sits away from him with a growl in his throat. A little voice in his head tells him that this human is gonna touch him and he's gonna get bit...

Brock chuckles low on his throat. And Frank said mind control wasn't real. Granted, it's not what most people think of thanks to the movies and media industries but this- this is as real as it's going to get. Until the robots take over, that is. He's seen the AI movies thank you very much. He grabs his phone and sets it up to record.

"Frank, baby, are you okay?" 

A low angry growl comes from his throat at the human. How dare he touch me?! He hisses and rises on his knees to press into the couch.

Brock reaches forward, knowing full well what's going to happen. "Aww, come here kitten." 

Frank hisses and crawls on the arm of the couch. He glares at Brock as his back arches. No, no I won't come here. No touch!

"Bad boy! Get down!" Brock fusses at Frank. He must be getting a little rusty, as Brock expected Frank's mind to be that of a much younger kitten than what he is currently displaying. It seems his boyfriend is apparently stuck in the cat version of the terrible twos.

Frank digs nails into the material of the couch and stares Brock down. It's a challenge. He's the one in charge, not the human. How dare he?

"I don't care if you don't want to listen. Get down. Now," Brock says sternly with a sweep of his hand to gently motivate the kitten-boyfriend to not be sitting on the arm rest. Contrary to Frank's mind, his body is not that of a cat. He will fall. He will not land on four paws.

Are we playing? Oh I like to play! Frank forgets his anger and pats at Brock's palm. He slides back to the cushion and watches Brock's hands for their next move.

Surprised by the change in his kitten's mood, Brock inwardly laughs. Based on the body language, Frank was ready and interested in playing. Were he a real cat, he's sure his eyes would be wide and black. He moves his fingers like a spider on the couch cushion before wagging them in the air. "Get it, baby." 

Frank grabs the hand and pulls it close to him. He curls his fingertips into the skin and puts his mouth over the gap between the thumb and pointer. He doesn't bite down hard but holds it there. He's gonna get it. Gotta get the thing!

Brock laughs, full and loud. He's debating whether or not to let this continue or not. He's hoping there's plenty of evidence on the video but just in case, he decides to really pull out all of the stops. He turns the camera towards the floor. Sliding off the couch and onto the floor, he sits on his knees and pats his leg, wiggling his fingers in what he hopes is in an enticing way. "Come get it." 

Frank's eyes widen and he rushes off the couch but clumsily falls to the floor. On all fours, he gets himself as low to the floor as possible and wiggles his butt in the air. He is locked and loaded, he pounces on the thing on the floor! Gotta get it!

Brock is silently dying with laughter inside as he moves his hand from side to side and faster than Frank can follow. He goes in for a quick poke before returning to "hide" his fingers under his leg. It's obvious but that's the point. He can't wait for the next phase.

Frank sits back for a moment and blinks. It poked him! It poked him then hid. He moves cautiously across the floor closer to Brock. A cautious touch to Brock's knee should draw it out as he pats him gently. He moves in closer. Come out, thing! We must play!

Moving his hand out, Brock slowly moves up and over Frank's body, watching how Frank tracks him. Once he's about midway, he descends his fingers and tickles him. "Giddy giddy, baby. Got you!" 

Frank flops to the side and squirms slightly. He's gotta get it! It's making him… making him feel weird! He wiggles and squirms. He can see the happiness on the human's face. He's a good boy!

Suddenly Brock pulls his hand away and splays out his fingers wide, high above Frank. He's seen the "tickle kitty" YouTube video. Frank made him watch it several months ago. He grins wide before diving in and tickling his tummy again.

Frank curls around the hand. What a fun game! When the hand pulls away he opens his paws wide in shock!

Brock does this several more times before laughing again at how cute Frank is. "God, I love you. Here. Let's try this for good measure before I undo this. You're going to hate me later, I'm sure."

Standing, Brock walks over to the table and picks up a small rounded device. He points it towards the floor next to Frank and cuts the overhead light at the same time he presses the laser button. The red dot appears next to Frank's head within eyesight and he waits.

WHAT IS THAT?! MUST GET IT! Frank paws at the floor trying to catch the red dot on the floor. He watches it move away and tries to catch it again. He twists his body a little and crouches back to the floor and wiggles slightly before attacking the dot but coming back empty pawed.

Brock zig zags the laser light a little, making Frank crawl and chase after it. He keeps him away from the sharpness of the coffee table and in view of the camera. Slowly he brings it up the couch and makes the bead of light "sit" in the couch cushion.

Frank jumps onto the couch and tries to get it. He lifts his hand but it's not there. He makes an annoyed noise and smacks the couch. 

Chuckling softly, Brock puts the laser pointer on the table and flips the lights back on. He goes to his phone and cuts the recording before sending the video to Steve. He wants saved evidence. Just in case Frank refuses to believe him. He sits on the couch not quite next to Frank but close enough.

Frank moves closer to Brock. He rubs against him then rests his head in Brock's lap. He wants pets. He wants all the pets. Maybe he wants the pets. He isn't sure yet. 

Carefully, Brock places a hand on Frank's back and strokes down. He repeats the motion, starting this time in his love's hair. He adds a little scratch on the third stroke. Maybe Frank will finally be able to purr? They used to joke about that years ago only to discover that while smoking gave Frank a sexy rasp, it did not give him a purr. He continues to rub his hand along Frank's back, enjoying the reaction.

His body presses into Brock's hand. The touch feels amazing and causes his legs to move a little forward. He pushes his head into Brock's stomach as he sighs happily. Everything in him wants to express how content he is but he can't. 

"You are so cute," Brock says softly. "Did you know that? And that I love you very much. Because you are my very good boy and while I love to call you my kitten, I'm thankful you are in fact, not. Come back to me, passerotto."

Frank's body softens a little as he inhales deep and blinks. He feels like he just had the weirdest dream. Or an out of body experience. He sits up and looks at Brock confused. He rubs his head and shifts his weight and crosses his legs. "I… must have passed out..." 

Brock hums softly. "Do you remember anything?"

"Yeah. We had dinner and Steve left. But…"

"But nothing since then?"

"No. I had weird dreams though." 

"What about?" Brock wraps one arm around Frank and pulls him close. He still wants to cuddle, real kitten or not.

"Don't laugh but… I was uh, like, a cat. I was playing and having fun… it was weird." Frank chuckles.

"Oh, well I'm glad you had fun…. Chasing the laser light..." Brock's lips slowly morph into a small smirk.

Frank turns his head to Brock as his mouth falls open. He didn't say anything about that… "What?" 

Brock reaches over and grabs his phone, pulling up the video and handing it to Frank. He gets up to get him a drink, grabbing his empty glass off the coffee table. "Just press play." 

Frank holds the phone and presses play. His mouth drops open as he watches himself on camera. "What did you do to me?!" 

"And you said mind control wasn't real!" Brock laughs from in the kitchen. 

"No! No way! What did you give me?!" Frank asks.

"Nothing. Just used a trigger word after establishing it in your brain. Then made sure you wouldn't remember what we did after dinner to get you to be able to turn into a kitten with a simple word." Brock pours himself some wine. "Want some milk?" 

"I just… I. What happens if you say the word in the future?!" Frank asks, covering his mouth as he scrubs through the video in shock and horror.

"First, I want you to acknowledge that I did, indeed, use real mind control on you. I proved my point. Then, I'll work with you to undo the trigger word. Since it's a common pet name for you, I'd rather not have you mentally turn into a cute kitten every time I say it."

"I. You actually used mind control on me! What?" Frank puts the phone in his lap, "What you don't want me to go kitten mode in the grocery store." 

"Yes, I did. I did a gentler version of what Barnes went through. All of the effects and none of the pain. Or damage. Not that HYDRA cared 60 or 70 years ago." Brock returns and sits next to Frank again with his wine in hand. "And no. Kittens are not good for the grocery store." 

"Delete this." Frank hands him the phone.

"Alright," he replies as he presses the delete button. He sets it aside on the table. "There." 

"So uh. Sorry, I said it was fake." Frank leans into Brock again. 

"Apology accepted. Though it was rather cute watching you chase the laser light. And you trying to pounce my fingers." Leaning over, he kisses his cheek.

"I'm just glad that no one will see that other than us." Frank says softly. A memory of nuzzling Brock surfaces. 

Brock drinks his wine and waits several beats before replying casually, "Yeah, I'm sure Steve will keep it a secret no problem."

"What?!" Frank sputters a little, "Brock!!"

Brock just laughs.


	17. A Map Is Discovered With Stars On Certain Areas

"Brock! We should go in! Look at the jukebox." Frank exclaims. He pulls his boyfriend's hand and motions to the thrift store window.

"Why do you want a jukebox?" Brock asks as he looks at the musical device in the window.

"I don't but it's cool! Maybe we can find something for the house! Look at the vintage trunks!" Frank grins wide. He knows Brock's opinion on second hand things. 

Brock grins and concedes. How can he say no to his love? "Alright, but we can look only. Anything you want to buy has to go through me to make sure it can be cleaned, sterilized, cleansed of all evil…. Oh, and no clothing or jewelry."

Frank grins. He loves Brock's little rule, "What if it's a cool ring?" Frank pulls the door open and let's his love go first.

"You can take pictures and I'll have it custom made to match it but I'm not having a dead person's soul trapped in a ring in my house." Brock rattles off in Italian, saying a prayer that neither of them become cursed or haunted. 

Frank walks along the inside of the antique store that was a blend of old and new. To mess with his husband a little he stops at a display of old rings and runs his fingers over them. He stops at the red stone, "Look at the ruby!" 

"No." Brock doesn't even acknowledge the display, instead he just continues on down the aisle. 

"Baby!" Frank says, trying to catch up. Brock's hands have stayed firmly pressed in his pockets. He loops his arm into Brock's, "Are you really worried we'll take a ghost home with us?"

"Jewellery holds onto the essence of the person who wore it. If the person who previously owned it, died unexpectedly, then there's a chance that yes, there's a chance that there could be a trapped spirit." Brock smiles at Frank. "It's a common Catholic belief." 

Frank grins up at him, "Raised non religious except on Christmas. But I respect it. I don't like the idea of taking someone else's photos home. Creeps me out, like vintage photos."

"Like a painting? Other than a DaVinci or Rembrandt, of course. Those would be different."

"Paintings are fine… well. Maybe not portraits. But mainly photographs." Frank smiles as something catches his eyes. He stops at an old leather jacket, "Baby, look at that!" 

"But I did say no to any and all kinds of jewelry."

"But this is a coat!" Frank keeps his arm up and points to the warm brown leather jacket.

"My point remains, love. Clothing is like jewelry & the deceased leaves a stain of their soul. No."

"Okay… " Frank says following along with Brock, "If you wanna go, we can." 

He's disappointed that Brock was so superstitious and grossed out by this weird and interesting place. Each section had a theme. Like a farmhouse kitchen with a mix of antique items and new ones. In a bedroom set up, he pulls away from Brock. He looks up at the three panel art piece of what looks like abstract trees. He looks around and can't find Brock. Frank asks the vacant space around him, "Honey?! Can we take these paintings home? They would look great in the living room." 

Replying to his own question in an impression of Brock, "I don't know dear, these can't really be cleaned but we could probably get some priest to come do his funky chicken dance around them to clear the bad juju away…" 

"Excellent! I can't wait!" Frank returns to his normal voice.

"You know, I hear talking to yourself is a sign of either a mental illness or possession," comes Brock's voice from behind Frank.

Jumping slightly, Frank turns to face Brock, "I'm just consulting an expert. Where'd you go, baby? I looked for you and you were gone." He takes a step towards him and rests his head on Brock's chest as he slips his arm around his waist.

"I wandered down a section where they had some knives in a display case." Hugging Frank, he leans down and kisses him lightly.

"The paintings? Thoughts." Frank looks up at him with a soft smile. He can't but be starry eyed at Brock. He is fucking beautiful.

Looking up. Brock stares at the paintings. Art wasn't his thing. He didn't understand abstract or minimalist things. He's not sure what he's looking at or why Frank finds it appealing. "It's…. Nice?" 

"Would you be okay with them in our home?"

"I don't know. It's kind of weird. I don't generally have an opinion on art stuff, baby. You know that. That's why you got to decorate the house."

"I know I just wanna make sure that you are comfortable with what we have in our house. I think it would look nice in the guest bedroom, like over the bed." Frank squeezes him. 

"Alright. I trust you," he replies with a little chuckle.

Frank grins up at him before kissing his lips, "We can have someone cleanse these if that would help?" 

"Oh you know I will. Hopefully this place will deliver. Wasn't really planning on buying anything here. Do you wanna continue looking around and I'll talk to the guy up front?"

"Sure. All else fails, I can ask Ray if he could pick them up for us. His car has room." Frank runs a hand over Brock's stomach, "You were looking at knives?" 

"Mmhmm. You know how much I love sharp and pointy things. Good idea about Ray. Maybe he can take it to some place that will clean it. Make sure there's no bugs and shit inside. Last thing we need is termites or some other infestation."

"Oh. Smart, baby. I never thought about that." Frank nods and looks back at the paintings. He watches Brock go talk with the man at the counter with a large man bun. He was sure he would hear about it when they got back to the car. He glances in the knife case and sees one that calls his name. It would be perfect for Brock. Maybe it would be a good Christmas present. 

His eye is caught by an old book with a little off-white triangle peeking over the edge. He pulls the book from its place and opens it. The smell of old paper hits him like bricks but it's almost relaxing. He pulls the envelope out and reads the beautiful cursive writing, 'My Dearest Franklin.'

He blinks and blinks again, "Babe, I wanna get this book too." 

Brock is still coordinating with the shop owner when he hears Frank call out with the desire to add a book to their total. He excuses himself for a moment with a smile, and makes his way over to his boyfriend. "What is it?" 

"Not so much the book but it's contents." Frank whispers as he pulls the old envelope out and shows it to Brock with a little grin, "Also uh, medical history of the 1880s sounds… interesting." 

Frank wrinkles his nose. 

Brock laughs and plucks the unopened envelope out of Frank's hand. The paper is a faded brown with a musty smell to it. Its age shows in the creases and minute tears along the edges. He's surprised to see that there's still legible handwriting on it. He frowns. The date stamp is nearly 73 years old. Turning it over, he checks to see if there's an address but finds nothing. 

"Im painfully curious." Frank speaks softly.

"This was in the book?" Brock asks.

"Yes." 

He hands him the envelope. "Put it back. And come on." 

"Are we not getting it?" Frank says with disappointment in his voice as he tucks the letter back. 

"Yes but you gotta hide it, silly. Now, come on." 

Frank tucks the letter away and follows him. He holds Brock's hand as they exit the building and head for the car. He feels giddy. Excited. What could it be?! He sits beside Brock with a stupid grin. "are we waiting to get home to open this?" 

"No, go ahead." Brock turns in his seat a little to watch. He, too, is oddly curious about the envelope.

Frank opens the book and pulls the envelope. He carefully runs a finger under the flap and pulls a folded paper. He opens it and quickly skims.

"My darling Frankie, 

Loving you has been the greatest gift. I am so happy to be your wife. In this letter there is a map. Follow the instructions and it will lead you straight to my heart.

Love always, 

Elizabeth Mills." 

After a pause, "That's kinda sweet." He opens the map and hands it to Brock, "We should follow it." 

"And do what?" Brock asks with a head tilt. "The date stamp is older than me. It's probably going to lead nowhere."

"You don't know that… I mean what were you gonna do this afternoon? Have sex? Do laundry? Watch tv? Let's go. On an Adventure!" Frank says with big bright eyes and an eager smile.

"Are you saying we're boring?!" Brock laughs. He shakes his head helplessly. He was content with his life at home. But Frank was so excited and happy. He couldn't deny him this. He smiles, "Alright. Let's do it. How do we figure this out?" 

"Not boring. Never boring.I love our life." Frank leans over and kisses him, "We google first. Maybe start with Franklin Mills?" 

"Or…" Pulling the little map out of the city from 70 years ago and seeing the little stars, Frank offers, "We follow the roads?" 

Brock starts the car up and pulls out of the parking lot. "Alright, navigator. Where to first?" 

"We are looking for Sherman Ave. Should be the main drag here…" Frank says leaning in and reading the small print. He looks up, "Take a left here. My love." 

Brock takes the left and drives slowly, trying to figure out what they were looking for. "Now what?" 

Frank looks at the map, "there should be a Winston St on the left… but there's a business…" He flips the map and reads.

Brock pulls into the business and pulls out his phone. "Hey, Google. Where is Winston Street?

The cool voice from his phone fills the car, "Address Unknown."

"The way you look at me speaks volumes. But there are so many pages my love for you could fill," Frank reads aloud and looks up to Brock. 

"That's either incredibly cliché or coded," Brock says with one eyebrow raised. 

"It's supposed to be romantic and it's a library." Frank chuckles, "Not everyone is a super spy like you, my love."

"You forgot 'awesome' and 'badass' in there, tesoro," Brock grins.

"Goof and silly… you pronounced those words wrong. English as a second language is hard…" Frank grins wide as he leans over to kiss Brocks cheek.

"Oh, I'll give you plenty of words in English. None of which you'll like," Brock rattles off in Italian, a hint of warning in his tone. It's softened by the grin on his lips.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, my love." Frank replies with a giant smile, "Especially since I know you won't. Did you need me to google where the library is, or are you gonna shout at the clouds?" 

"Excuse you, I know full well where the library is. Unlike you millennials who can't find anything without the Google to assist, I happen to know how to exist in a world without a smartphone," Brock retorts back with a smirk.

Frank grins, "The Google… I'll have you know. I remember life before the internet too, pops. And you saw a road sign, huh?"

"Lived here for twenty damn years, boy. I think I know where the library is. Have you ever been there? Or do you not know what a book is? There's this thing… called paper...and it has words on it instead of a screen."

"Weren't you alive 70 years ago?" Frank asks, still grinning without looking up from his phone. He's found her name but it's just her obituary, "What was it like before electricity?" 

"See, you had paid attention in school instead of playing around on your phone, you would know that electricity was invented in the 1800s. And I am not that old- which by the way must not be a problem with you considering you like being bent over a table and fucked hard. Do wrinkles turn you on? The smell of bengay? Want me to stop by your grampa's old folk's home and let you get your kink on?" Brock fights hard not to laugh. 

"Uh, why do I need an old folks home when I can just go home and get the same smells… and wrinkles do turn me on." Frank grins as he puts his phone in his lap and looks at Brock's face, "I absolutely love being bent over your desk and fucked like a slut by my dirty old boyfriend.... But truly, it's the bengay… gets me going."

Brock cracks up, thankful he's pulling up to a stop light. Taking advantage of the moment, he leans over and kisses Frank. Slow at first but gradually turning more heated.

Frank runs a hand over Brock's neck and comes to rest on his chest as he kisses him back. He enjoys when he gets to poke the bear and get a reaction. Fuck, he loves him. 

The little clock in his head tells Brock the light will be changing soon. He pulls away, gently licking across Frank's bottom lip before nipping him. He sits upright just in time for the light to change. "I love you." 

Frank grins with his eyes closed for a moment and enjoys what happened. "I love you too." His reply is soft, "God, I'm so lucky." 

"As am I, tesoro. As am I." Brock reaches over and takes his hand.

"You haven't lived here for twenty years. The city, yes. But this is upstate. You're practically a New Jersian…" Frank gasps with a huge grin on his face, "You're my real life Jersey Shore guido, you're my Pauly-D!" 

"Oh fuck no." Shaking his head and laughing, Brock withdrawals his hand. "See here I was gonna be all romantic and here you had to ruin it…"

"But like… tell me I'm wrong. Gym. Tan. Laundry. And work!" Frank shifts in his seat and leans over to kiss Brock again. 

"Noooo," Brock groans out. "Stawp. I'm not a Jersey frat boy with little to no brain."

"No. No, you're right. You aren't a dumb frat boy." Frank snickers and bites his lip, "You're a bad Grandpa. Speaking of, take me to the library. Show me this museum of books you speak of." 

"Please. I'm old enough to be your dad, not your grampa. Museum of books….." Brock shakes his head, "Probably never ever seen a phonebooth before. With a phone book inside."

"A phone booth? You mean they didn't make it up for superman?!" Frank jokes with a smile before taking Brock's hand again, "Next you'll tell me dictionaries are actual books."

"We should find out if they have a dictionary or encyclopedias that are older, like 70 or 80 years old. I am willing to be, she vandalized a book for her Frankie." Frank grins, " Unless you have a better idea?"

"No but tell me how are you going to find the right book?"

"I dont… I don't know." Frank feels a little deflated as he speaks softly, "Maybe, we shouldnt do this." 

"Check the letter for clues?" 

He picks the letter back up and scans it and sighs, "I don't know. I'm sorry. The next one looks like a park… where their names are carved forever." 

"Hmm…"

"Maybe we could as the librarian for help." Frank suggests.

"Good idea. Maybe a quick search for him. Check the database. High school yearbook. Article. Maybe they got married." Brock pulls into the library parking lot and pulls into a spot. "I could use my connections to locate them but it would be partially illegal…"

"Let's not do anything illegal. If we can't turn anything up, we'll go home. Okay?" Frank squeezes his hand.

"I suppose… I guess you don't want to hack into the census database, then?" Brock teases as he gets out and grabs Frank's hand again, walking with him to the library front door.

"Yeah. Let's not hack anything…" Frank says quietly as he walks with Brock into the library. He misses the smell of a library.

"Alright, fine. Killjoy. Let's go check out…. Something. Maybe there's a book with their initials on it or something. I'm sure there's a self-help section about love." Brock looks around and heads for the adult section.

"Are you looking for yourself in the self help section?" Frank teases. He runs his fingers over the spines of the books as Brock looks. A title catches his eye and he pulls it. 

"The Definitive Book of body language, volume 2." Frank comments as he holds the book in his hand. He cracks the book open and eyes the old fashioned card inside the book's cover. He pulls it out and scans it for anything but comes up empty. He wrinkles his nose in disappointment and flips to the table if contents. 

"Find anything?" 

"Chapter 8: Look at me: conveying emotions with our eyes… no duh." Frank flips the pages with full intentions of mocking the book. He takes a step to Brock and is shocked. 

"Does the name Forest Park mean anything to you, Brock?" Frank asks, "Because it's written on this title page." 

"No but give me a second," Brock replies, pulling out his phone and doing a search.

He sits beside him and waits patiently. Frank flips through the book and skims a page then snorts. He closes the page and unlocks the computer in front of him. He Googles the park and finds that it is still around. He clicks a link that takes him to a newspaper article of a festival that took place there in the 1970s. He smiles at Brock, "it has a carousel."

"Cute," Brock replies, putting away his phone. "I've got the address. Let's go check it out." 

Frank grins at him and follows like an excited puppy, "Okay." 

They get to the park and stroll around, hand in hand. The carousel spins with a few kids on it, the lights twinkling brightly. The music ebbs and flows with the sound of childish laughter. Brock looks around and wonders where their next clue will be.

"Got any ideas, love?" 

"No." Frank grins, "But I'm excited to spend time with you." 

"Awww, that's sweet, baby." 

"I mean, the carousel is a good place to start." Frank says softly squeezing Brock's hand as they walk. "I bet he proposed to her on there…"

“Possibly. What was the clue about the park again?” Brock asks, watching the carousel turn with a careful eye. 

Frank pulls the paper out, "In a tizzy. In a whirl. My life was turned upside down when you paraded into my life." 

“Which of these animals parades?” Brock motions to the slowly moving ring of animals. “The horse, perhaps?”

Frank smiles, "yup. We should look!" 

He pulls Brock to the ride and wraps his arm around him, "I wonder what's as the end of all this?" 

“Probably him. Their house? I don’t know.” Brock realizes as they near the ride, that there are multiple horses. The music slowly stops and the ride soon follows. Several kids disembark while others remain on. Brock steps up and onto the platform, heading for one of the three horses. He estimates he has roughly one minute to check the stone painted animal over before the ride begins again. He ignores several kids staring at him; some with wonderment and others with disdain.

He calls to Frank, “Check out the other horse. If the music starts, hop on and we’ll ride. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find the next clue on one of them.”

Frank checks the other horse, he glances at Brock. He runs a hand over the side of the horse and brushes something under the saddle, finding just the label. "Nothin here babe!" Frank moves to Brock. Once he reaches him the music begins to play. 

“Hop on. We’re going for a ride.” Brock pulls Frank onto the horse with him, putting him in front just in time for the ride to start up and begin spinning them. Brock wraps his arms around both Frank and the horse as they slowly rise and fall to the music. 

Frank turns his head and kisses Brock, "When's the last time you were on one of these?" 

"I can't say that I have," Brock replies.

"You've never been on a carousel?" Frank asks softly, his head rests on Brock's shoulder. Maybe this is another first for them.

"No. It's not something we had back home and never saw a reason to do it here since it's mostly for kids."

Frank nods, he must be more sentimental about the idea of the first ride being with him. He relaxes into Brock until the ride ends, "what now? Did you get to the horse head of us?" 

"I haven't, no. That's next once the ride is over," Brock says, hugging Frank close.

Frank glances over at a young kid who gives him a huge smile. He wonders what Brock would be like as a dad. Would he be the authority? Or would Brock be the one to discipline? The ride comes to a stop and Frank waits for Brock to move before sliding off. He follows Brock to the other horse. He hopes the clue is there. He watches Brock examine the horse and look at him with a frown as he tosses the faux rein to the side. The sliver of something catches Frank's eye. Invading Brock's space he pulls a small yellowed with age, piece of paper from a cut in the horse rein's housing. He hands it to Brock and sits side saddle on the wooden horse, "What's it say?!" 

"My love for you grows with each passing year. Like the blooms in my mother's garden, I, too, look upon your face and see the sun. Do you remember where we sat under the trees and saw rainbows?"

Brock finishes reading as they step off the ride. 

"Uh… like a flower garden?" Frank says confused. He scratches his head and follows Brock. He pulls his phone out and looks up flower gardens.

"Do they even still make those?" Brock wonders, still staring at the note.

"What? Flowers?" Frank teases.

"No, you ass," Brock says with a gentle smack across Frank's head. "Flower gardens." 

Frank laughs, "there's not one nearby. But near our old apartment there was. Where else would flowers be…

"There's Central Park? But I don't think that's it. Somehow I think the part where she's asking him to remember where the rainbows are is important. Sounds personal. Same with her mother's backyard. Like the blooms in my mother's garden, I, too, look upon your face and see the sun. Sounds like sunflowers. What do you think?" Walking back to the car, Brock opens the door for Frank before following him.

"Oh! Sunflowers! Baby, you're smart!" Frank sits and buckles himself in. He shifts his weight and turns to face Brock. 

Starting the car, Brock pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards the main roads again. "Other than parks and florists, I'm not sure where else one would find sunflowers. Got any ideas?"

"A greenhouse? A hippie shop? Uh...I don't know." Frank scratches his head before looking at his phone.

"Okay. Let's try this. Pull up a search on where to buy sunflowers and maybe that will be where we start. Could be a florist's shop but I'm not sure that's it either."

Frank searches and comes up with nothing in his search for a greenhouse. He signs and taps the screen. As it changes over an article pops up. 'Historic greenhouse burns, 2 dead' 

Frank reads the article quietly and looks up at Brock. "Her mom owned a greenhouse." 

"Okay, great. Mom's backyard is a greenhouse. Wait. How do you know that?" Brock asks, frowning.

"Hometown pride and treasured Mills Greenhouse burned to the ground in the early morning hours. As the fire fighters quenched the flames, the horrific discovery of two charred bodies changed the accident to suspicious." Frank reads, "the bodies were identified later as Leticia Ann Mills and Quincy James Mills. Leaving daughter Elizabeth Mills, 17, an orphan."

Brock is silent for a long moment as he listens. "Damn. Does it say where the greenhouse was?" 

"In another article, it says that a memorial was set up with a planting of wildflowers and sunflowers in Greenwood Cemetery." Frank says, glancing to Brock, "Which if you take a right and follow the road we will run right into it in 3 miles."

Nodding, Brock makes the turn. "Hey, are you having fun?"

"Yeah! Are you?" Frank asks him, he rests his hand on Brock's thigh.

"I'm with you, so of course I'm having fun, tesoro," Brock smiles.

"Yeah! It's been kinda fun to do a scavenger hunt with you. I love seeing you like this." Frank grins wide.

"Seeing me like what?" Brock chuckles, "You've been stellar on this, baby. Doing most of the work. I'm just the chauffeur."

"Mmm… you are quite a sexy driver. But we've been a team!" Frank squeezes his thigh gently before running fingers over the seam of his jeans.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have a strict no-fraternization policy with my guests. No matter how incredibly sexy they are. You'll have to wait after-hours to handle the goods," Brock says with a lopsided grin.

"But that's how I'm gonna pay for this car ride." Frank grins wide before biting his lip, "And I mean, we haven't actually tried sex in the front seat… so. Just saying."

"I'll take that into consideration," chuckles Brock. Slowing down, he sees the entrance for Greenwood Cemetery and turns in, parking alongside the road. He leans over and smooches Frank. "Maybe later we'll try it. As a reward once we finish the scavenger hunt. Okay?"

"Okay, baby." Frank grins. He follows him out of the car and towards the tall sunflowers.

As they walk through the cemetery, Brock wonders how are they going to find the next clue. Everything here was new. Nothing seemed to be--- he spots something and motions to Frank, "Look." Brock points to a large tree that stood by itself with several sunflowers at its base, "Over there. Think that looks promising?" 

"Okay! Let's look!" Frank slips in his hand into Brock's and walks with him to the tree, "What are we looking for?" 

"Dunno. Guess we'll find out!" Brock grins at him.

Frank skims the plaque at the base of the tree. He glances around and moves closer to Brock. He feels like they are being watched. "Wonder if she buried something here?" 

"Only one way to find out," mutters Brock as he kneels in front of the sunflowers. "Though. I'm not sure if it's a good idea to check during the day. I'd rather not get a ticket or something for defacing government property."

Frank looks around, "I don't think there is anyone one around. I mean, it's not like we are digging a body up." 

"We don't know that," jokes Brock. "Alright. You keep watch and I'll dig. With my hands, apparently…. So glad I don't have a manicure to ruin."

"I can do that." Frank nods and glances around casually as Brock digs. 

Here's to hoping this is the right spot. Brock isn't sure he can dig too deep with just his hands. For all of his readiness training, he wasn't exactly planning on going on an impromptu scavenger hunt and digging up something in the middle of a cemetery. His fingers scrape against mulch, rocks, dirt, and grass. It's slow going at first until he sits back and contemplates how he can improve his digging. At this rate he'll be here all day and night. "I need a stick. Actually, I need a shovel but something strong to turn the earth will do."

"I have a pocket knife?" Frank offers.

"I've got knives too. Maybe if I put them all together, it'll make a hoe of sorts. I know that once I get past the first layer, it'll be easier." Brock holds out his hand for Frank's knife. "Not going to ask when or why you are carrying a knife." 

"I usually do have one on me… but it's mainly for music related reasons." Frank hands the knife over as he speaks, "Should have said something cooler…" 

Taking the knife and pulling out his two, Brock holds the three blades as best as he can and punctures the hard earth. Repeating it a few times and cutting the soil causes the earth to loosen enough that he can get his hands in and begin properly digging. He doesn't have to dig deep, thankfully before his fingers brush an object that is hard and metal. He digs faster. The sun glints off the silver metal that's being unearthed.

"Got something, Frankie!" 

Frank feels an overwhelming sense of giddy, he kneels down beside Brock and looks to see what he's found. What if it's money? Probably not but that could be cool! "What is it?" 

He helps Brock pull back the earth a little and ease out the metal box. It looks like an old cash box that his grandma used to hide things in.

Pulling the little box out, Brock sets it aside in favor of covering his dirt hole. Once it is as covered as it's going to get, he opens the box.

Inside was several wallet-sized photos. One is of a young woman dated circa 1937. Brock flips it over to discover it's of Elizabeth Mills. The second photo 

is a handsome couple sitting beside one another with a huge grin on each of their faces. Elizabeth and who he presumed to be Franklin. A presumption found to be correct once the photo is flipped over. Amongst the photos were several other trinkets: that of a necklace, some movie tickets to the local drive-in, a faded business card that Brock guessed was a pizzeria based on the half-faded image of a pizza on the edge, a class ring that upon closer inspection held Franklin Wright's initials on it, and a single dried red rose. He shows these things to Frank. "Guess we found the gold at the end of the rainbow."

Frank sits beside Brock and leans his head on him. "It's like little memories frozen in a time capsule of their blossoming love." 

He pauses and grins, "What would you put in ours? The price tag, coffee stirrer…" 

Brock chuckles, "An empty and clean can of sardines?"

"The number for homeless wayward youths from the Google."

"A cat collar just for you. And a world map. Maybe a tiny teddy bear."

"The last condom at the house… since we both know that was bound to fail." Frank leans up and kisses his cheek. He loves that Brock is just a sappy sentimental as he is, even if he was joking about the condom. Being serious for a moment he adds, "Should we find them? Give the letter back?" 

"I think that's a great idea. They deserve to have what's theirs. It's been half a century. I bet she forgot all about this," nods Brock. He stands and wipes his dirt covered hands on his pants. Then he returns Frank's pocket knife. "I need to wash my hands at some point. I need a shower too. You ready to go?"

"Mmmhmmm. I'll see if I can find them." Frank pockets his knife again, "Wouldn't mind joining you in that shower."

"I like the sound of that. If you can't find them using the Google, I have an alternative option. I know a guy who works in private investigations. Might be able to help." 

"1522 W Cook Ln." Frank looks at Brock with a soft smile.

"Awesome," replies Brock with a smile. He takes Frank's hand with his free one, the other carrying the metal box back to their car. As he gets into the car, he gives Frank the box to hold. Driving to the address, Brock wonders if the elderly couple will be happy to see their time capsule or if they will feel violated over someone going through their stuff. This brings about the realization that he's more invested in this than he thought. 

Frank holds the box between his feet and watches as they drive by buildings and homes. "Wonder if they are still together?" 

"I wonder if they are still alive," Brock replies quietly. It's a terrible thought but a very real possibility.

"I was wondering that too." Frank says softly as he takes his love's hand, "maybe they are still alive and still in love." 

"I hope so. I know that I want that to be us in thirty years." Smiling at Frank, he squeezes his love's hand. He doesn't want to think that he'll only have, at most, forty years left with Frank. Thirty was being more realistic.

"I don't think I will ever stop being in love with you. I am in fact the luckiest man in the world." 

"And I know that I'm going to love you until my very last breath on this Earth. And even after death, I will still love you."

"But that's not gonna happen for a very long time." 

"No. It's not," Brock says with a soft smile.

Finally, they reach their destination, pulling up to a little house. The yard is overgrown and the porch is in dire need of repair. Several of the shingles on the roof were missing. The quaint building needed some TLC but clearly the house was lived in and loved. This was their home. Brock gets out of the car and waits for Frank. He's weirdly excited about this.

Frank jogs around to meet Brock. He holds his hand as they walk up to the door. "Want me to knock?" He asks. 

"Sure, if you'd like. Got the book and the letter? Want me to hold the box?"

Frank grins and hands it over to Brock. He steps up, knocking on the door and stepping back. He waits with Brock. An old man with glasses in a cardigan. His walker clicks as he pushes the screen door, "How can I help you gentlemen?" 

Brock looks upon the elderly man, who he assumes is none other than Franklin Wright and feels a pang in his chest. He steps forward a little. "Are you, by chance, Franklin Wright, sir?" 

"Yes, how can I help you?" Franklin asks looking up at Brock.

"We have something that belongs to you. It's from your wife, Elizabeth." Brock motions to the letter in Frank's hand. "My partner found this letter hidden inside this book we bought at a thrift shop. Elizabeth wrote it."

Frank hands the book and letter to Franklin, "My names Frank. This is my husband Brock. And these are yours."

"You boys come in." Franklin says stepping back with the book.

"Thank you, sir," Brock says, wiping his hands on his pants again. He feels too dirty to be entering the man's house but he does anyway, following after Frank.

"Would it be okay, if he washes his hands?" 

Franklin smiles, "Of course! It's the first door on the left." 

"Thank you," Brock rushes the words as he hurries for the bathroom.

Frank follows the older man to the living room, he sits on the couch and smiles at him. "You have a nice home! How long have you lived here?" 

"Fifty years." Franklin's voice gets warm. He watches Brock sit beside Frank, "Me and Betty bought this place when we had our first baby." 

"Where is Elizabeth now? " Frank asks, concerned. 

Franklin goes quiet for a moment and his body language changes to a softened sadness. "She passed 20 years ago." 

"I'm so sorry, sir," Frank says sliding his hand into Brock's. 

"Our deepest and sincere apologies, sir," Brock says sombrely. "Are you familiar with the letter at all? We're sorry that we opened and read it."

"It's been decades since I've seen it. I feel bad that I lost it. Betty would always say I'd lose my hands if they weren't connected." Franklin says softly as he runs fingers over the book, "Her grandaddy gave her this book but she said it frightened her. I hid it in my office, she musta thrown it out long ago." 

He takes a long pause, "How did you find me?" 

"We followed her clues and used Google." Frank smiles warmly. 

"Oh! My great-granddaughter showed me how to use the Google on my phone." Franklin grins. 

Frank glances at Brock with a little smile. 

"How long have you two been together?" Franklin asks Brock with a smile. 

"This is our second year together," he replies with a smile. 

"You can see the love in your eyes." Franklin smiles before glancing at the box, "What's that?" 

"The reward at the end of the scavenger hunt. This is what we came here to bring you; not just the book and letter." Brock rises and brings the box to Franklin, carefully placing it in his weathered hands before returning to his seat next to Frank.

"Oh. Oh my!" He gives him a smile as he opens the box. He pulls out the photos and cards through them, he looks up with tears welling on his lower lashes, "Thank you boys, I had forgotten about this. Betty was so excited for me to find this."

"It was fun following the clues." Frank says softly. 

"Where did you find this?" Franklin asks as he wipes a tear away. 

"In the old Mills Greenhouse," Brock explains. "It was buried under some sunflowers. Don't worry, I didn't disturb them. I understand it was Elizabeth's mother's favorite."

"Yeah, she loved sunflowers. Elizabeth is buried not far from the sunflowers." 

"I'm glad she's close to home, then. We are honored to be able to bring this back to you, sir," says Brock, squeezing Frank's hand tight. 

Frank nods and looks to Brock for a moment. He turns back to the old man, who looks so touched by their kindness.

Franklin rises from his chair slowly and moves to the bookcase. He pulls a photo album and shows them photographs of their lives. "You can't see it here but she had the greenest eyes, I've ever seen." He comments after finishing the album and returning it to the shelf. 

"I can give you money for this, at least for your gas." The old man closes the lid and looks to Brock. He doesn't want them to run out because of him.

"No," Brock quickly interjects. "It was no trouble at all to do this and we enjoyed ourselves. I would hate to burden you by allowing recompense. No, we simply wish to return what's rightfully yours."

The older man doesn argue, "I appreciate you boys coming and returning this to me. Betty was my world." He pauses, "Never thought, I'd see this again."

"We're glad to have helped, if only for a little bit." Brock turns to Frank to verify his statement.

Frank nods in return. 

"I don't get many visitors, so it's nice to have company." Franklin's voice softens, "Thank you for coming."

Brock nods, "It's been a pleasure speaking with you and, through the clues, with Betty. I can tell she was a remarkable woman."

"She was. You boys are welcome here anytime." Franklin scoots forward and struggles to get up. He grips the walker and moves towards the door. 

Frank follows behind Brock. This older man makes him miss his grandfather. He wants to adopt him. He holds Brock's hand.

"Thank you for inviting us into your home and sharing with us a little bit of your life," Brock speaks as he steps out and onto the porch. 

Frank adds, "Yes, thank you so much. It was very nice to meet you!" 

"Don't be strangers. Thank you boys again." Franklin walks on the porch and watches them depart. 

Frank stays quiet on the drive home, he looks to Brock and feels pure sadness. Is that going to be him, when. No, no. He isn't going to think about it. He grabs Brock's hand and kisses the top of it. 

"I love you, tesoro." Brock turns to look at him as they approach their apartment. "We're going to have a long life together. Focus on that; not the end. Okay?"

Nodding, Frank swallows hard. He knows opening his mouth would allow his eyes to betray him. 

Heart breaking, Brock parks the car and unbuckles them both. Carefully he pulls Frank across the console and into his lap, holding him tight. "I love you. So much. And even though death's inevitable, you've taught me to focus on the joy of being with whom you love. We have our whole life together ahead of us. You're my everything. It's okay, baby."

"Love you." Frank says into Brock's neck as he hugs him tight. He snorts at his joke, "Uncle Tony needs to work on the youth serum faster." 

Brock chuckles and pulls away a little. "I'll be sure to tell him that. Come on, I do believe you promised to share a dirty shower with me."

Several Weeks Later:

Frank riffles through the mail as he enters the apartment juggling donuts and coffee. Brock's on a carb kick for some weird reason and has been craving donuts out of the blue. Setting down the items on the table, he begins to sort through the mail. One piece stands out amongst the mostly junk letters and advertisements and it makes Frank frown. _Who is Phoenix Contracting?_

Listening carefully Frank can hear the shower running. He doesn't have much time. Carefully he opens the letter to pull out a pink slip. It appears to be a bill. _A nearly $15,000 bill. What the hell? Landscaping? Roof repair? Porch replacement and paint? We didn't have any of this done!_

Just as he's about to panic over credit card fraud or something, the address catches his eye. He smiles. This is one of the many reasons why he loves Brock. Trucking the invoice back into the envelope, he grabs the donuts and coffee and heads into the bedroom to surprise his amazing boyfriend.


	18. A Humblebrag Goes Wrong"

Frank comes out of the bathroom in a suit. He straightens his tie and looks up at Brock with a half-grin. His hair is slicked back but there's no product in his hair. He feels a little silly but this is the suit Brock picked for him, Brock's got good taste and he trusts him. He moves to the dresser and slips his watch on and his ring. He takes a breath and nods in the mirror as he applies cologne. "I'm ready, baby." He calls to Brock as he exits the bedroom.

"You look so incredibly handsome, babe," Brock says. He's waiting by the door in a rich navy blue suit with a red and gold pinstriped tie. "Really. You look great."

"You are a dream in navy," Frank grins as he steps up to Brock with a half-smile. He's a little thankful they aren't matching fully, just the tie. 

"You are a dream in anything. And nothing," grins Brock playfully. He offers his hand. "Ready to go?" 

"I am. I’m a little nervous about this…" Frank answers as he slips his hand into Brock's and laces their fingers.

"Why?" He opens the door for them and locks up. 

"I don't want to embarrass you in front of your superiors." Frank replies looking up at him, "He gives him a soft smile, "I don't plan to drink a lot and I'm ready to small-talk with military dudes."

"You know all the important people anyway. That gives you all sorts of street cred. You'll be fine, _tesoro_."

The ride to the hotel was quick and did nothing to quell the nerves. Inside the ballroom, people were mingling and chatting. He stays close to Brock as they take their seats. He recognizes faces from the news that he's yet to meet. 

"So is it just dinner or do you guys do awards? Or anything?" Frank whispers.

"Just dinner. Bit of music and drinks but that's it. Those who care do gift exchange. I usually do it in private and closer to Christmas. I don't care about half of the Agents I work with." Brock laughs and wraps an arm around Frank's waist. He steers him towards the drinks.

"Gotcha!" Frank glances around and sees a familiar face. He turns his head and tilts it up slightly to whispers in his ear, "Are we good with Tony?" 

"Yeah. He still loves me." 

"Okay good. Cause I just smiled at him and he's headed over." Frank replies, kissing Brock's cheek.

"Great." Brock grins at his cousin as he approaches. It wasn't common knowledge that they were related as neither of them tended to speak about their families in company they didn't trust. It was one of the few traits they shared.

Tony comes over with a drink and Pepper behind him, "Rumlow, how are you doing; it's been what, six months?

"I'm starting to think you don't like me." He jokes.

"Never," Brock laughs. "It's just been a really busy season. How are you?" He moves to Pepper and hugs her, knowing that Tony didn't like to be touched.

"How are you, Frankie? The old man treating you good?" Tony asks with that signature cocky smile.

"I've never been better. Brock is pretty wonderful. I've never been this happy." Frank replies as he side hugs Pepper after Brock hugs her and kisses her cheek.

"That's great!" Pepper replies, "You guys still have that newly in love glow."

"Well, hopefully, that will never change. I told Frankie that if it ever does, to kick my ass into high gear."

Frank grins wide and takes his hand, "I don't see it happening." 

"Good! You guys are too cute!" Pepper says with a grin. 

"We'll swing back in a bit," Tony says with a nod as he and her keep moving around the party.

"Okay but don't get too drunk, Tony," Brock calls after him. "Or I'll call Mom!"

"You leave Aunt Maria out of this, Rumlow," Tony quickly retorts. "Besides, Pep has me covered. She's awesome like that!" 

Frank takes his glass of wine and follows Brock as they move towards the center of the ballroom.

"That wasn't so bad, yeah?" Brock asks in Frank's ear, one hand on his low back.

"Not at all," Frank comments as they walk past faces he doesn't recognize. His head fills with a naughty idea. He steps closer to Brock as they pass by a crowd of men who give Frank a weird look. 

"Gentleman," Brock nods to the agents as they pass.

The vibe they send pass by causes a chill to run up Frank's spine and makes him shiver. He wonders if they are good or bad. Maybe they are just grey. He wonders how Brock does it. 

A hand on Frank's arm draws his attention to a beautiful redhead with high cheekbones and deep red lipstick. Her matching cocktail dress glittered under the light. "How are you boys doing?" 

"Hi, my love!" Frank says with a wide smile, "You look amazing, as you always do!" 

"You look magnificent, Natasha," Brock praises as he hugs his friend and coworker. 

"Thank you! Are you coming to Christmas at Steve's?" She asks them with a sly smile. 

"Are we?" Frank asks Brock.

"It's tradition for us to go to my mother's house for Christmas. Maybe we can stop by before we fly out?" Brock offers.

Natasha nods, "I know he would like that. So would I." 

"Do you have all of your Christmas shopping finished yet," Brock asks while taking a sip of his wine. 

"I do. Picked up the last gift today. What about you boys?" Natasha gives Frank's arm a little squeeze.

"I haven't." Brock shrugs, "I'm struggling with finding the perfect gift for one of the boys."

"Aw! I could always help. I'm very good at finding gifts!" Natasha grins at Brock before taking a sip of her drink. 

Frank gives Brock a little smile, "I'm all done. Been done since my birthday." 

"Well aren't you an overachiever," Brock teases. "Good thing you are a cute traitor." 

"Traitor? You mean to say planner, mister!" Frank playfully pokes him.

"Yeah let me just stop you right there," Brock chuckles as he holds up a hand, "and remind you that I'm the planner one in this relationship."

"How's that planning going?" Frank smirks. Natasha snickers before taking another sip.

"Oh bite me," Brock retorts with a playful grin. "It's not a lack of planning but a lack of inspiration. And nothing seems good enough."

"I'm sure that's not true. Whoever it is will love your gift," Natasha adds. 

"Yeah, I know that logically but my emo side disagrees." 

Natasha smiles even wider, "Frank's really rubbed off on you, huh?" 

"He just wants to be like me… don't blame him." Frank chuckles.

"A sexy little Twinkie? That's not wholly a bad thing. But I much prefer being the big bear to the cub," Brock smirks at Frank. His hand slides from Frankie's lower back to discreetly squeeze his ass.

Natasha chuckles and glances to her left seeing Banner and Rogers chatting. She gives Brock one more hug, "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a Hulk and America's Ass to hug." 

Frank gives her a side hug and moves back close to Brock. He leans up and kisses his cheek and speaks softly, "So, does this mean I get Christmas sex early if we're going home?" 

"Every day is Christmas sex, _tesoro_ ," chuckles Brock. He kisses Frank's cheek. 

"Oh! Well, that changes things then." Frank grins. He watches new agents approach Brock and greet him. 

"This is my partner, Frank," Brock introduces him to the two agents. "Frank, this is Agent Garcia and Agent Harris." 

"Nice to meet you!" Frank grins, he recognizes the names from Brock's Alpha team, "I have heard about you guys." 

"It's great to meet you too! Brock's a fantastic leader!" Agent Garcia says with a wide grin. She pushes a piece of blonde hair behind her ear and moves her teal clutch from one hand to the other, "I had Captain Rogers send off a Christmas card for you guys… Hopefully, he didn't forget."

"He's probably just busy," Brock says.

A man with a runner's build and shaggy black hair and bright brown eyes steps forward. He extends a mocha-colored hand for Frank to shake. His voice is deep with a rich Irish accent. "Shannon Harris. Nice to meet you, Frank." 

"Hi! It's nice to meet you too!" Frank grins up at him and shakes his hand. He's handsome. He is convinced that Brock's job only signs on pretty people, "How long have you guys been _under_ Brock?" 

"Just about a year," Garcia says, nodding to Brock for confirmation.

Brock nods, "About ten or eleven months. Though, Harris had been with us about four months or so."

"Aye, sir. And a pleasure it has been," Harris smiles.

"Thank you, Harris." 

Frank squeezes Brock's side, "I appreciate you guys for keeping my wonderful man safe. Merry Christmas, guys!" 

"Of course, Brock is a wonderful leader!" Garcia smiles softly and nods at Brock. Frank can tell that she really looks up to him.

"He looks out for us," adds Harris, "so it is only fitting we return the favor. Merry Christmas to you both." With a polite nod, they move on.

"I like them," Frank says softly as they move. Frank sees a small group of what he assumes to be big deals in a circle that they were headed towards.

"They are good people. Good agents." 

Frank nods as he and Brock approach the group at a lull in their conversation. He glances at the other partners, all wives dressed in shiny dresses with pristine makeup and hair. He feels out of place with his tattoos and partially bleached hair. He curls his fingers to hide his tattoos. He's more than thankful he doesn't want a face tattoo. 

"Commander Rumlow, how are you, sir?" An older man with salt and pepper hair extends his hand to Brock. 

"Secretary Pierce," Brock greets as he shakes the weathered hand. "I'm doing well, thank you. How are you tonight?" 

"Doing well. Rumlow, have I introduced you to my wife, Lorraine?" 

"No, sir. I don't believe I've had the pleasure." He shakes her hand before turning to Frank. "This is my partner, Frank." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Frank, are you having a good time?" Pierce asks as they shake hands. 

"Oh, I am. Thank you, sir." Frank answers and feels his skin crawl at the way he looks at him and Brock. 

"And how about yourself, sir? Enjoying the party?" Brock asks Pierce.

"As much as I can." Pierce says while he pulls his phone out and takes a breath, "Just waiting to hear from Bravo about their mission." 

Frank watches Mrs. Pierce touch the phone screen as she softly speaks to him, he's confident she's telling him to enjoy the party. Frank moves closer to Brock.

"What's Bravo gotten into now? The missions these days have been a walk in the park as of late. They should be competent enough to successfully pull this off. Then again they aren't Alpha… Bravo is second best after all," Brock says with a cool tone. He suppresses a smirk. 

"You think your missions have been too easy, Rumlow?" Pierce's replies as he raises an eyebrow.

"Me and my team are your best agents, sir. It's hard to find a good challenge sometimes," he replies.

"Is that so?" Pierce nods, "I do happen to have a mission on my desk that could be a _challenge."_

Frank squeezes Brock's hand signaling he wants to move on. Pierce gave him the creeps. He sees familiar faces and is desperate to move away. 

"Rumlow! Hey!" Murphy shouts from across the ballroom waving his hand in the air. 

Brock closes his eyes and wished he could disappear. When he opens them, he notes that Secretary Pierce has _conveniently_ disappeared. Asshole. He grins at the shorter man approaching him. It's not that he didn't like Isaac Murphy, it was that he found the younger man to be _incredibly annoying_.

"Aw! I finally get to meet Murphy." Frank speaks softly.

"Unfortunately," grumbles Brock under his breath. 

"Commander! Been looking all over for you!" Murphy says as he reaches Brock. Frank notes that people have gravitated away from them. He wonders what's truly wrong with the man. He sounded nice, "Did you see that they have a vegetarian and vegan option?! My request went in, now I wonder if it's quinoa base or tofu. Either way, I bet it's gonna be delish!"

"I did see that. Isaac, this is Frank, my partner. Frank, this is Isaac Murphy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Murphy. Brock has mentioned you a few times." Frank shakes his hand, "The tofu can have the risk of having an odd texture." 

"You're absolutely right! I've been telling Brock they need more vegan options. I've even encouraged him to give it a shot. You know that just going vegan for one day a week can have a drastic impact on global warming." Murphy says with a wide smile.

"But I don't like vegan or vegetarian and really don't care to try it," Brock deadpans.

"You have never really tried them though! I swear it tastes just like the real thing!" Murphy says with a wide smile.

"He's not wrong." Frank grins up at his love.

"I knew you two would get along," Brock gives Frank a look. He might be regretting this more than he already is. The last thing he wants or needs is for Frank and Murphy to be _friends_.

"Rumlow doesn't believe me when I say that it's cow farts that are making the earth hotter." Murphy shrugs, "But what do I know, I'm only an amateur climatologist. You play music, right? You guys should consider going green!" 

"What exactly is your position? Rank? Uh… what do you do on Strike?" Frank asks unsure of what to ask exactly.

"I'm a pilot." Murphy gives Frank a wide goofy grin.

"Nobody knows how he's managed to not crash us," adds Brock.

"Me too!" He laughs. 

"Brock tells me that he was very interested in the conversation you guys had about bees the other day.

"Oh goddammit," Brock mutters under his breath. He sighs. He's never going to hear the end of this. God, just kill him now. 

Murphy's eyes light up and he grins even wider. He chatters excitedly, "He did! That's really cool that you talk about me, Commander! Did you tell Frank what happened?" 

"He did. How he swatted a bee and you gave him information as to why bees are important…" Frank bites his lip as he looks up at Brock. He's gonna get it when they get home. 

"Yes! Did you know they are the most important _bee_ ings to our ecosystems? The whole world could collapse if they became extinct! They have such important jobs. I wonder if it goes to their fuzzy little heads? Hey, have you ever tried honey directly from the source?"

"I knew that they are important to everything we eat and the environment. I am allergic to honey, so I can't have the real thing. I assume it's related to my bee allergy but I make sure my big man here uses it when he's got a sore throat. Huh, babe?" Frank grins a little wider, "Brock was telling me that you are considering bee farming?"

"He was very interested in that," Frank adds. 

"Really? That's great. Yes, I think it's very important to help the bees on their journey towards a better world. Ooh, Commander would you like to hear about my 10-year investment plan? In year three, I use my robotic queen to learn about how the bees communicate!"

Frank squeezes Brock's hand. He can tell Brock is zoning out.

"Uh, maybe later," Brock blinks several times. Yeah, he tuned out everything. "I, uh, I'll catch you later, okay? I need a new drink." 

"It was nice to meet you, Issac!" Frank says cheerfully.

"You too Frank! Keep working on him going vegan!" Murphy says with a smile.

He walks with Brock towards the bar. He keeps quiet for a moment but he's ready for whatever Brock has to say.

"Jerk," Brock mutters as they approach the bar. He orders a whiskey. "Bad kitten." 

"You gonna punish me?" Frank speaks softly.

"Later, _gattino_." He turns to Frank. "Naughty kitty, I'm going to pay you back for that." 

"I don't know what you mean, babe…" Frank bites his lip and fiddles with his lip ring, 

"You will," he promises as he downs the drink.

~~~~ Two Days Later ~~~~

Brock strides from the office of Secretary Pierce with a manilla envelope in hand. He'd been instructed not to open the new dossier until after he reached his own private quarters. This makes him very nervous as to what this could pertain to. It must have been an important mission. One with only level 12 security clearance. The thought makes him giddy, as this could possibly be something he could use to get promoted.

Entering his office he starts the door and locks it just to make sure that no wayward agent comes sliding in to ask him questions over something stupid. He pours himself a drink, just in case. He's yet to ascertain if this drink is in celebration or not. Sitting down at his desk, he takes his letter opener and slides the blade along the seam. Carefully he pulls out the papers. A folded sheet of paper falls out and onto his desk. Picking it up, he notices that it is a handwritten letter from Secretary Pierce himself.

_Rumlow,_

_Since you deem the work I assign to you is too easy, perhaps this will provide the challenge you seek. Next time, be grateful for my generosity._

_S. Pierce_

A sense of foreboding fills Brock as he looks at the mission report. 

Location: Siberia

Est. Duration: 2 Weeks

Type: Undercover Reconnaissance

Agents: Rumlow, B

Murphy, I

Mercer, C

Garcia, R

"Two weeks in Siberia?!" Brock screeches loudly. The rest of the details were unimportant. SIBERIA! He hates the cold! With Murphy! It's like his worst nightmare. He downs the drink before slapping the desk, hard. 

"Son of a bitch!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Frozen tundra is very important to the ecosystem, Commander. You know the Russians have made a good living by drilling in some of the most barren arctic lands for oils to boost their economy…"- Murphy


	19. An Extinct Flower Blooms For The First Time In 200 Years

Frank sits on the couch in the apartment. He has a blanket over his legs as he watches television with the volume low. He's been checking in on Brock as he naps in their bedroom. 

Brock's been down with the flu for three days. He spent the first two days being whiny and needy, which he loved but today was different. He had been in bed all day and was sleeping. He didn't want food. He barely took his medicine to make him feel better. 

Frank gets off the couch and enters the bedroom with a bottle of water in hand, "Brock. Hey. You gotta drink some water." 

Brock doesn't respond, which prompts a little fear in Frank. He checks his temperature. 100.1. He covers Brock up to his shoulders and gives him a little more time to sleep while he figures out what he needs to do to break the fever.

He comes back and pulls a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of socks and sweats out. 

"Brock. Get up. I need you awake." Frank says firmly. 

Brock doesn't answer, other than a soft snore escaping from under the blankets. He's bundled up tightly and curled into the smallest ball possible. He's dreaming, from the sound of the occasional whimper making itself known.

"Hey." Frank drops beside the bed. He shakes his love's shoulder, "I wanna put another layer on you." 

Chocolate eyes snap open with a jolt. They are wide and unfocused. Brock shivers hard and he reaches for Frank. A fearful whimper escapes.

"Hey! It's okay! I'm here, baby" Frank says softly as he moves closer to Brock, "Can you sit up for me?"

With a pained groan. Brock slowly pushes himself up. Every inch of his body hurts. Down to the bones and muscles. He shivers once the blankets are off of him and the sauna-like heat escapes his cocoon. He's exhausted just doing the littlest motion. 

"Arms up, let's get this sweatshirt on." Frank says softly, "And sweats and socks too." 

"Hurts," Brock chatters out in a small voice. His throat feels like it's full of shattered glass.

"I know, darlin'. We're gonna have some hot tea with honey and maybe I can get soup in you." Frank says softly as he rubs his knee. Frank stands and puts the sweatshirt on him, "I need your feet baby." 

Brock pulls his legs up to his chest and bundles himself before carefully inching out one foot at a time for Frank. He wants to go back to sleep… in the oven.

Frank pushes the socks on then the sweats, "We're gonna sweat this out. Okay?" 

He nods. He can agree with getting warmer. He's so cold. He hates the cold. He's not meant for the cold. He lays back down and curls up again before coughing weakly into a fist. It burns in his ribs and lungs. Fuck, he hates being sick.

"Think you can stay awake while I go get your tea?" Frank strokes his cheek.

"Try," Brock croaks out weakly. He makes no promises. He's exhausted all of the time. Even his sleep isn't the best with the occasional fever-induced nightmare ruining his rest.

"Okay. I love you baby," Frank says softly as he gets up from the bed and retrieves the still hot tea from the kitchen. His mom gave him a recipe that will help Brock get better fast. He returns and sets the drink in the nightstand, "Hey, come on. Sit up babe." 

Brock groans in protest. He's managed to stay awake while Frank left him but now he regrets laying back down. He doesn't want to move. It hurts to move. His fingers and toes hurt. Nobody should ever have fingers and toes hurt. Why can't Frankie just lay down with him? Oh right. He's sick. Slowly and painfully, he gives in and sits up. 

"Alright. I know you're hurting but you're gonna drink this tea. Take some medicine and then you can sleep," Frank says soft and soothing as he hands the tea over to Brock. 

Nodding, he slowly brings the steaming mug to his face. The hot mug feels great in his hands. The heat seeps deep into the muscles and feels amazing. He carefully takes a tiny sip. "Stay." 

"Okay. I can do that." Frank smiles. He lets Brock enjoy the drink for a moment before speaking, "Mom says she loves you and don't make her come over and force feed you."

Giving a weak smile, Brock offers the tea back. He drank about a quarter before his stomach began to protest. He doesn't want anymore.

Frank takes it and doesn't argue. "Wanna try soup later?" The cup is placed on the nightstand again and he crawls into his spot, "Come here." 

"Ok. Sorry if you get sick," Brock croaks out as he curls up to Frankie. Another shiver runs through him. An echo in his mind with his mother's voice reminds him that while he's feverish, he's contagious.

"You'll just have to take care of me." Frank softly brushes Brock's hair with his fingers, "I also got my flu shot. So maybe I am protected." 

He pauses for a moment, "Are you warming up?"

Brock shakes his head no, then nods yes. The cold was on the inside and therefore hard to make it go away. He was happy with the heat surrounding him and was comfy in that regard, but it only did a little too ease the frozen within. He surmises that Frank is asking if he's comfy and so he nods again. Now he just needs to stop swallowing glass. Scooting closer to Frank, he works his way into his husband's arms and lays his head on his chest. He's ready for a nap again.

"You know darling, history was made today." Frank speaks softly as he continues to pet Brock's hair, tracing his hairline with a fingertip.

"A rare flower called the corpse flower, that only blooms once every forty years open a decade early." Frank starts, "And there is a flower that was thought to be extinct for over 200 years, I think it was called the laserwort, was rediscovered." 

"Dumb names," Brock whispers hoarsely.

"That's your issue?" Frank laughs. He strokes Brock's hair, "That laserwort is believed to be the origin of the heart symbol. It was supposed to have an affect on virility.

"But the corpse flower has something in common with you, my love." 

"I'm dying?" Brock offers before holding Frank tighter. Another wave of shivers attack him and makes his muscles ache. He whines. He can't get warm enough.

"No. You do smell though." Frank chuckles, "Sorry. It was a bad joke. You can't help it." 

"What's wrong baby?" Frank asks. 

"'m sick and dying. And stinky," Brock grumbles.

"But you're very cute." Frank offers as he pulls the blankets over Brock's shoulder. 

"No. Gross." He buries himself deeper under the covers. "Stinky. Dead flower." 

"No. You my sick grumpy big bear." Frank rubs his back, "You need sleep, darling."

"Okay," comes a small, muffled reply from under the covers. "I don't wanna be flower..." 

"What do you wanna be?" Frank chuckles.

"Bear…"

"You still are my big scary bear." Frank smiles softly, "Baby, do you want me to turn on the TV? Maybe a movie?" 

"Okay…" Brock closes his eyes soon after and drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days later, Frank is laid up in bed, sick as hell. His whole body aches, throat feels like he drank acid and he swears he is burning up from the inside out. He groans as he buries himself in the covers and prays for death.


	20. A Nosy Neighbor

"Brock. I'm telling you I think she is cheating on her husband!" Frank grins across the table at him. 

"What makes you say that?" Brock challenges. "Do you even have any proof?" 

"I watched her kiss him at the front door." Frank smiles, "He comes over every afternoon." 

"Okay, but is it a friendly kiss on the cheeks like what I do? Or clearly romantic?"

"It's more passionate than a friendly kiss." Frank replies, "Like a kiss after a long day." 

"Oh and not to mention, Mrs Norris down the street, I think she got a part time job." Frank says softly, "She's coming home before Mr Norris arrives in a Walmart vest."

Brock softly laughs and sits back in his chair. "I gotta say, baby. You have become such a nosy neighbor."

"What else am I supposed to do in retirement?" Frank takes a bite of his pasta, "Besides, our neighbors here are so interesting."

"I thought you were still going to be writing music," offers Brock.

"I am… I just got bored and happened to see some things." Frank says with a smile, "you know the cute gay couple up the road?" 

Brock thinks for a moment, trying to figure out what Frank is referring to. "There's a gay couple up the road?" 

Frank laughs, "Yes, we had dinner with them. Two really pretty ladies. One's a Doctor. The other is a high school principal." 

Frowning, Brock thinks back to when he was last at a dinner with someone not their friends. Suddenly it clicks. "Oh! Yes! I remember now. Wow it's been a long time. Or I'm just working too much."

"Do you want my answer for that?" Frank says with a straight face. 

"I get the feeling I'm not going to like the answer no matter what it is," Brock chuckles. "I feel like I should apologize…."

"You don't have to apologize, love." Frank smiles, "But, those gorgeous ladies have a baby! I saw them bring it home today!" 

"Aww now that's adorable. I suppose you want to take them something?" Brock knows how much Frank loves to bake. His cakes were heaven in Brock's mind. 

"Can we?!" Frank grins, "I could make a batch of cute cupcakes! Oh, maybe a cute little cake!"

"I get to taste test these, right?" Brock asks hopefully.

"Of course!"

"One of these days, I'm going to go from a fat meatball to a fat cupcake. Or cookie dough chub. All from your amazing cake." Leaning over, Brock kisses Frank lightly. "I love your cake." 

"I love you. This dinner is fantastic darling!" He grins and kisses Brock back. Headlights flash the window and catch Frank's attention, "Oh. Oh no. The husband's home… the boyfriend hasn't left yet!"

"This is like primetime drama," laughs Brock. He rises and goes to the window to peer out, motioning for Frank to follow. He's invested now, thanks to his husband. "How do you know that's not a family member visiting?"

"The car? Or the person she's with?" Frank joins him with a grin as he hands Brock his wine. 

"Both."

"That's his car. And him." Frank says leaning up on his tiptoes, "And you don't kiss a relative like a lover. Oh, he can tell something is off"

Frank watches as the man gets out of his car and hesitates by the trunk. The man takes steps slowly for his front door, "this is gonna be good." 

Brock sips his wine slowly, never taking his eyes off the man across the street. He's not sure if he knows them or not. Unlike his love, he didn't take interest in his neighbors other than a cursory background check to ensure they posed no threat. Before Frank, he was aloof when it came to the neighbors.

"What would you do?" Frank asks curious as his eyes follow the man to his front door. 

"Am I the husband or the boyfriend here?" 

"Both."

"If I was the boyfriend, I'd make sure my partner was single first… but in this scenario, I'd make sure that I knew the husband's schedule like my own. Knew exactly how long it takes for him to drive from work to home. Set clocks or alarms. Know how long it takes to clean up, get dressed, and leave. Then plan accordingly. Don't get caught. If I was the husband and I suspected… install cameras. Divorce if there is infidelity. If I didn't know… kill the boyfriend. With my fists. Then divorce her ass."

Frank holds his breath as the husband opens the door, "I'd at least kick his ass. And kick her out… you should open the door…" 

"Think the boyfriend is going to run out half dressed like some terrible movie scene?" Brock sips more of his wine, aware he and Frank are doing a rather good impression of the Stratford Wives.

"Oh I hope so! And I hope the husband comes out with a baseball bat after him… oh the bedroom lights on!" Frank says pointing to the upstairs window, "Oh shit! Hubby's home! You gotta go!" 

Snickering, Brock shakes his head. "You are enjoying this way too much, tesoro." 

"Our lives are boring. And I like it that way, but come on. This is free entertainment." Frank grins as he looks up at Brock, movement catches his eye from the upstairs window, a naked man climbs through and drops to the ground.

"There he goes… I wonder if he's cute." Frank snickers, he runs a hand over Brock's low back. 

"I wonder if anyone is going to call on him for streaking," chuckles Brock. "Call him the Flash. Or Ghost with that pasty pale ass." 

"Do I have to be worried… I know you like my pale skin. Does he have a gun? Is the husband gonna shoot him!?" Frank asks, watching the husband charging after the boyfriend with something black and small in his hand. 

Peering closer to the window, Brock tries to figure out if the husband has a gun or not. "Possibly. Guess we'll find out in a few minutes. And no, you don't need to be worried. I only love your pale sexy ass."

Two pops make Frank flinch and he whispers, "That's not good. I kinda wanna get a tattoo on my butt…" 

"You are not getting a tattoo on your ass!" Brock turns and looks at him, eyes full of incredulity. Was his husband out of his mind?

"What? Why not?" 

"Because I like your ass just the way it is. It doesn't need anything else. And I don't want some artist staring at what's mine anyway. That's private." He moves away from the window and sets his wine glass down. He moves to grab his phone to call the police. 

"Oh what's yours? Maybe I should get your name on my ass." Frank snickers. 

"I'd rather not stare down at my name or any other ink while I'm fucking you. Besides, you've already got my mark on you."

"I won't do it cause you don't want me too… but it's fun to tease." 

"That's because you are my little hellcat. And I love you for it, even if you are a nosy kitten." Brock laughs softly before putting the phone to his ear. "Yes, I'd like to report a possible shooting…."

"he's aiming at the wife." Frank says.

"... Better make that confirmed shooting with a possible second victim." Brock rattles off the neighbors address and gives a brief story of the events leading up to the gunshots. He stays on the line until sirens pull onto their street, lighting up the houses in red, white, and blue. Hanging up with dispatch, he pockets his phone and downs the last of his wine. Stepping forward, he wraps one strong arm around Frank's waist and yanks him away from the window and tosses him over his shoulder. "Come on. You've got better things to do than be a nosy butt."

Frank laughs and lets himself be carried away by Brock. "Better things like you?" 

"Exactly." 


	21. "There Is Something In The Water"

He doesn't know why but he just needs to get out. He debates on telling Brock. He holds his phone in his hand before deciding against it. His husband was not exactly the nicest this morning. 

The stupid argument over breakfast echoes in his head.

"If you don't want to eat it, then you can starve!" Brock snaps as he slams the cupboard door. They had been bickering for days before this but that was the breaking point. He'd grabbed his keys and things before storming out of the house. 

He intended on going to Jack's but when he called and Jack snapped at him, he knew it was something in the water and decided he was done. He pulls out of the garage and heads out of the city. He tosses his phone into the passenger seat. 

As the city disappears and turns to lush green countryside, his head starts to wander. Being with Brock has been amazing. He's happy and healthy but it's not been without struggle. Going from Janis to this, is like night and day. But, since Brock went back to work, resuming his position as a Commander, it's gotten harder. 

Brock comes home late. He's in a bad mood and disappears into his office. The missions we're getting longer. He wasn't going to ever leave Brock but, somethings gotta change. 

He pulls over into a gas station and checks his phone. Brock's called him three times and it's not been more than thirty minutes. He can wait. 

After getting gas and a coffee, Frank heads north again. 

The ghosts in his head tell him that Brock has fallen out of love with him. He's realized that Frank is not what he wants but their lives are so entangled that someone is gonna get hurt. He stops at a stop light and sends a text to Brock.

Saw you called. 

Brock: Great. Why didn’t you answer?

I was driving and I didn't feel like getting yelled at more. 

He pulls into a parking lot near a park with a small pond nearby. He exits the car and takes his phone. He's expecting a call now. That was an intended jab at Brock. He walks along the pond and finds a bench.

He can sit here and mope or...he can make Brock miss him. Maybe make him worry a little. He rubs his face and heads back to the car. He puts the phone in the cup holder and takes off. Maybe he'll go to Philadelphia.

He does just that. He checks his account and remembers the amount he has in the account from his royalty check. He knows that Brock is not concerned about money. But he is. Even still he is worried that the family will think he's just there for the money. 

He heads into town and shops for a few things. Picking up things for his guitars. But finding himself in the artsy neighborhood, looking at trinkets and oddities in a little shop. He cruises down 13th into the Gayborhood for lunch and a beer before hitting the mall. He finds himself a new pair of jeans, hoodie and converse. He slows in front of a fashionable men's store and wanders in. He picks up a gorgeous peacock blue tie, a crimson with embossed paisley print tie and a nice button down for Brock. 

Before he leaves town he stops at Reading Terminal to grab two dozen yellow roses for forgiveness. He picks up fresh cannolis and eclairs with another cup of coffee. His urge to stop at a pot shop and pick up an edible is strong but he thinks differently. 

Instead, he starts the car and checks his phone. Thirteen missed calls and 20 texts. He rubs his face and sighs as he begins to read them.

Brock: Just call me.

Brock: You are ignoring me? Frank, grow up and call me. 

Brock: Where are you??

Jack: At least let us know if you are alright

Brock: Damn it, Frank

The texts get more urgent and desperate.

Brock: I'm getting worried.

Brock: it's been over an hour. 

Brock: If you don't call me in an hour, I'm calling the police. 

You didn't call the police, right?

Brock: Not yet. Where the hell are you?! Are you okay?!

I'm in Philadelphia. I'm fine. Relax, polpetto. 

Brock: Jesus. Look, I'm sorry. Can you please just come home? We can talk about this.

I'm about to start driving back. I love you. Im sorry too.

Brock: I love you too, tesoro Drive safe.

The drive goes by quickly and soon he's in their parking garage. He sends a text asking for Brock to come help with bags. He feels weird about it but does it anyway.

Brock: Be there in a bit

"A bit? That's not what I expected..." Frank says softly before getting out of the car. He unloads the bags of things. He'll just make trips. It's fine. He's getting used to doing things without Brock around. He presses the call button and waits for his lift. 

The door opens to reveal Brock in the elevator. He steps forward, to grab some of the bags. "Are there more?" 

"In the back seat of the car." Frank says with a nod towards Stella. He knows that back there is the two dozen roses and pastries for Brock. 

"Okay," he nods. "Wait here?" 

"Yes baby." Frank says standing to the side and waiting for Brock. He wants to see his face. He knows Brock isn't a flower guy per say but who doesn't want to get some from their love.

Brock moves to the back of the Porsche and grabs the remainder of the bags. A bouquet of flowers catches his attention and he grabs them last. They are beautiful. Were they for him? Or just because? Frank did enjoy decorating the apartment often. Shutting Stella's trunk, he rejoins Frank. 

"These are beautiful, baby." 

"I'm sorry." Frank says with a soft smile. 

"These are for me?" Brock smiles softly at him. 

"Yeah. Do you like them?" Frank asks with a grin.

"I do. Thank you, baby." He steps forward and leans down to kiss Frank.

"You're welcome. Can we talk?" Frank asks as they step into the elevator. 

"Yeah… now or when we get home and unload these?" He looks down at the bags in their hands and wonders what Frank bought on his impromptu shopping trip.

"When we get into the apartment. " Frank says with a little smile. The elevator door dings. 

Inside the apartment, Frank sets the bags down and leans against the kitchen island. He watches Brock kick his shoes off at the door. He bites his lip as the butterflies in his belly begin to rise up. He loves that man so much.

"So." He starts. 

Brock nods and joins him at the island. "I'll let you go first, tesoro." 

"I don't know what's been going on but you have had a short fuse and I'm sorry if I make you mad. I don't mean to." Frank speaks softly but there is an edge to the words, "I didn't want it to get worse if I stayed today."

Brock is quiet for a moment before nodding. "I've been under a lot more stress lately. I don't mean to take it out on you but I do, and I'm sorry. My patience is thin and my fuse short like you said and things just grate on my nerves more. I'm sorry, Frank."

"I don't mean to get on your nerves. I don't know how to make this better. But I don't like feeling like my own husband hates me." Frank says looking up at him.

"I don't hate you, baby. I could never." Brock sighs hard and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know how anyone can fix this. And it's not just you getting on my nerves. It's everything and everybody. I snap at Jack all the time it seems. My agents too. I hate everybody on the road, in the news, on the radio. I can't figure out why except it's stress related. But ultimately it's not your fault or something you have to fix."

"What… what is going on at work?" Frank asks as he pulls Brock's shirt towards him, "I know Jack feels stressed too. He yelled at me earlier." 

"It's like there's something in the water at your work." Frank adds.

Brock shakes his head. "That's the thing, I can't pinpoint it. The workload is higher, the missions are short but they feel more dangerous. It's like we're gearing up for something big but nobody knows what it is. There's a high energy about the compound that's driving us all stir-crazy. Or angry. I think it's the waiting."

"I'm really sorry, baby." Frank wraps his arms around Brock, "I don't like fighting with you." 

"Yeah, me either," he replies, hugging Frank back.

"Your turn…" Frank looks up at him, "Did you have anything you want to add? Anything I can work on to help?"

Brock shakes his head. "No baby. I'm just asking that you have patience and grace with me. I'm really sorry for how I've been acting these past few days. Forgive me?"

"Always. Wanna see what I bought?" Frank nods then smiles.

"Sure!" Grinning, he kisses Frank lightly before going into the kitchen and grabbing something to put the flowers in. 

Frank pulls the nice button down and white and black out for Brock. "I know you said you have a board meeting or congressional hearing. So, I got these and these." He pulls the ties out and places them across the shirts. He has ulterior motives for the ties and he knows he's transparent about it.

"Wow baby, these are very nice. I'm impressed; you did great picking out something I would wear." Running his hand over the fabrics, he smirks at Frank when he reaches the silk ties. "Do I get to wear these at least once before you?"

"I mean. I would like to see you in them. Maybe, an unbuttoned shirt, loose ties, rolled up sleeves with a bottle of wine in hand…" Frank gets a little starry eyed for a moment at the idea, "Then, maybe you show me how to tie them on me."

"Oh that can totally be arranged," smirks Brock. "Got 50 Shades vibes there."

"50 shades ain't got nothing on you, babe. You're hotter than the Grey dude any day." Frank grins again and kisses him, "I got guitar stuff. I also got cannolis and eclairs."

"Cannolis and eclairs?" Brock asks with hope in his voice. They just so happened to be his favorite junk food. Especially eclairs.

"Mmmhmm…. I figured it would turn a grey sky to blue." 

"Pretty much, once the raging bull is calmed anyway. I can be bribed with food." Brock casually goes through the bags in search of the pastries. He wants a donut. He doesn't care that it's almost dinner time. "Please feel free to bribe me anytime." 

Frank laughs and shakes his head, "Hey. What are we doing for dinner?" He knows it won't be the last time Brock says something or snaps at him. But for right now, he's got his husband back. His big, silly, Italian sunshine.


	22. A Tale Of Karma

"I don't care, Brock. You have to be nice to Carolyn." Frank says from inside the closet as he pulls down the small duffle bag for his clothing, "And look. I'm sorry that we can't spend the week at home. But, mom promised me that the resort is Brock friendly. You will only have to be in the cold for minutes." 

"I hate the cold," he repeats with a sour look on his face. "And Carolyn too." 

"I know. But we are going to spend the week, cuddled up with hot drinks by the fire. And you best… best believe that I'm fucking you by the fire." Frank says as he pulls clothing out, tossing them over his forearm, "Stop pouting and start packing, lover." 

"Oh alright," he huffs. He grabs his duffle and begrudgingly starts to pack.

After packing warm clothes, it's not long before they are on the road towards Jersey to meet up with the family. As Frank pulls into the driveway. He stops to face Brock. 

"Ready for this?" Frank leans over and kisses his cheek. He can see Carolyn in the living room with his mom. He hoped that she would behave too. 

"As much as I can be," Brock nods.

"I have dramamine for you in my bag."

"Thank you, baby."

"I know you are not the best flyer." Frank smiles at his love before kissing his cheek, "Let's go." 

"I've never been to Vail before." Frank adds. 

"Me either. And I'm a perfectly fine flyer, on my own plane. So there." He leans over and kisses Frank.

"I know but mom doesn't have access to the private planes like you do, darling." Frank enjoys the kiss and seals one more kiss before unbuckling, "She didn't want to tell you early cause you'd try to pay for everything."

"Duh. How's that a bad thing?" Brock grins before getting out of the car.

Linda opens the front door, "My boys! Come hurry! Jack's inside too! He beat you kids here!" 

Frank pulls his duffle from the backseat. He can hear Carolyn talking loudly. He comes around to Brock and offers his hand to him.

“Hey momma Linda,” Brock says happily. He hugs her tight and kisses her cheek. “How are you?"

"I am much better now that my boys are here! The bus should be here soon to pick us up. Are you excited, love?" Linda kisses his cheek and she squeezes him.

“Kinda?” Brock chuckles, “I like the idea of a family vacation and getaway but not the cold parts. Thanks for picking a me-friendly resort.”

"I had a little help with it." Linda looks to Frank with a smile, "But I promise you don't have to do much cold weather activities. I'm not gonna make you go skiing." 

"Where's my brother?" Frank announces as he steps into the kitchen, he is looking for Jack. 

"Hello Brock." Carolyn says with a smirk.

“Thanks, Momma,” Brock smiles at Linda before turning to Carolyn. “Hey.”

Jack steps into the kitchen with a huge grin and wide arms. “Frank! Hi!”

Frank hugs him as he looks up, "How long have you been here?" 

“You guys hug like you haven’t seen each other in years,” Brock chuckles.

“Like an hour,” Jack laughs, hugging Frank hard.

"He's my best friend… of course I'm gonna hug him with feeling." Frank replies to Brock. He rubs Jack's back, "Were you being kidnapped by Cheech?" 

"Are you feeling well, Brock?" Carolyn asks with a gleam in her eye.

“Yeah, just not happy about flying commercial,” Brock comments wryly.

"How's your heart?" She asks, she calmly moves closer to him. Her face is a give away how much she wants to go into something that will annoy Brock.

“Um, fine? Other than anxious about flying on a plane I’m going to hate and the evil snow. Yeah, I’m good.”

"Huh…" Carolyn says with a skeptical nod. 

A little girl knee high rushes out and hugs Brock's knee as she squeals. The adorable-ness making Carolyn seem irrelevant. " 'rock! Lookit! I got kitty!" Emma shouts and holds up a stuffed kitty towards him.

Brock’s face lights up and he grins before picking her up and resting her on his hip. “Hi sweetness! Oh, that kitty is cute! Just like you. How you been, princess?”

"I good! Got kitty! Princess dress! I getta go keying!" She grins at him before hugging him.

"I told her you were coming and she has done nothing but talk about her boyfriend Brock all day." Christine says from the staircase. 

“That’s cause I’m awesome,” Brock grins. He sets Emma down and gives Christine a hug. “How are you?”

"I am great! I start my new job next month. Divorce is final. Life's good. How are you, handsome?" Christine asks.

“Doing pretty good. Glad to hear that the divorce is done.” He steps back and turns at the sound of his name being called.

"Rumlow? Is that you?" Frank Sr says as he exits the kitchen. He has a huge smile on his face and a beer in his hand.

“Hey, Papa.” Brock goes over and hugs him. “How’s it going, sir?”

"Pretty great! Just got off the road. Ready to sit in the hot tub in the snow." Frank Sr. pats Brocks back, "You two still madly in love?" 

“Yes, sir,” Brock chuckles. “I could go for the hot tub as well.”

"We'll have a couple scotches and enjoy the hot tub together while the wife and husband play in the snow." He chuckles.

“Sounds like a plan, sir. Anything to get out of the cold and indoors. When are we leaving for the airport?”

"Bus is here!" Linda calls from the living room.

“Wait, we’re taking an actual bus? Not a few taxis or something?” Brock asks, lost.

"Yes, Brock. Airport shuttle bus." Linda waves everyone out the door.

“Oh. Well…” Brock trails off, muttering quietly about how they toured in buses all the time and he wanted to avoid more buses. But that is cool. 

"Frankie. Pull the Cayenne into the garage." Frank Sr reminds his son. 

"I know. I know!" Frank chirps back. Frank moves outside quickly and pulls his car into the garage and locks it before closing the doors. He boards the bus and sits beside Brock. He kisses his cheek, "it's only a half hour ride to the airport." 

“Yeah. At least it’s a minor upscale sardine can,” he quips as he puts an arm around Frank. This will be okay. He has Frank and family. And it will be great to sit by the fire.

The ride is quick but the airport takes longer. The flight is overbooked and the family is put on a different flight, a later flight. Frank sits beside Jack and watches his mother argue with the woman.

"Shoulda had you guys fly us." 

“If they don’t get us on a flight soon, that very well may be the outcome. I don’t think anyone here is willing to wait another four hours,” Jack mutters. He glances at Brock, who seems hellbent on walking a hole in the linoleum.

"SIX HOURS!" Linda shouts, "No!"

Frank slumps in his seat a little. 

Brock is immediately on the phone, speaking rapid Italian. There is no fucking way in frozen hell he is going to wait six hours in a stupid, cramped, gross airport terminal with every screaming child on the planet.

"How many layovers? 3! No! Unacceptable!" Linda shouts again.

Frank looks at Jack, "Wanna hit the bar?" 

“In a minute. Feels like Momma Linda needs to make sure there’s a refund involved. Shall we?”

"Please. My husband might just pace a hole to China." Frank says standing and looking at Jack.

"I'm coming too." Christine says, "If I gotta deal with mom this whole trip. I'm gonna need a drink. Or two." 

Frank Sr smiles, "I got the baby. Go relax, Chrissy." 

After downing half a drink, Linda tracks the three of them down with an unhappy face, "Apparently you guys are ready for spring break. Apparently, the Rumlow family is sending a plane."

“You’re welcome,” Brock chimes in, trailing after her. “Can we not stay here while we wait though? Grab lunch maybe?”

Jack brightens at the prospect of food. “Count me in!”

"Are we going to walk?" Carolyn gripes from behind Brock as she and Frank Sr with Emma in his arms join the group.

“And eat something from here?” Brock asks, horrified. “No, oh god no.”

"What's wrong with eating here… Brock?" Carolyn's voice is full of judgement.

"Let's see where a nearby food place is and then we can go from there." Linda says, pulling her phone out and begins searching for a restaurant.

"The angels told me this trip was jinxed." Carolyn says with a frown. 

Brock scowls at her, voice full of annoyed irritation. “Aren’t you tired of always being a negative Nelly? Of always having the worst disposition in any situation?”

"I'm a realist." She replies cooly, "Glass isn't always half full in the real world, Brock."

“Yeah, I know. I do it too. After the shit I’ve seen and done, anyone would think the same. I get it. But being a realist doesn’t always have to be a problem creator either. You could do us a favor and help, at least.”

"There is a restaurant not far from here. I ordered two cars to take us there. We need to be outside in the next five minutes. Can you two cool it?" Linda says touching Brock's arm. 

Frank finishes his drink and joins Brock. He slips his hand into Brock's as they walk to the exit. The meal is tense as they wait for the plane to arrive. Linda does her best to keep everyone calm. As soon as the plane touches down and refuels, they group boards and finds a seat. Carolyn sits quietly stewing over Brock's comment. 

The plane touches down in Vail, the snow is coming down in huge flakes covering the ground with a soft pillowy blanket of white. Everything is illuminated by the glow of the snow. Once the doors open the cold air finds its way inside. 

"Brock." Linda says looking back at him.

"Yes momma," Brock shivers out. He hates the cold.

"Thank you for saving my butt." Linda leans up and kisses his cheek.

"Welcome, momma. Can we go inside now?" Brock picks up his luggage and Frank's before hightailing it out of the plane.

"Yes, love. Let's get you by a fireplace my little sunshine baby." Linda grins at him.

The hotel shuttle takes them to their hotel, a large property that looks more like a castle than a hotel. The warm lights cause the white snow to glow and create a welcoming atmosphere.

Frank wants to torture his husband a little. He reaches down and picks up a little snow to mold it into a soft ball. "Hey babe..." 

Brock turns halfway in his sprint to get out of the cold, wet, white, evil slush that is snow. He's fairly certain it's seeped into his shoes. It feels like it's in his socks too. Like some sort of frozen sludge out of a B-movie with brains. He hates this. Hates everything about this. He's never leaving the cabin. 

Frank half heartedly throws the snowball at him, hitting his face. He didn't think it would make it to Brock but when it does his mouth falls open in shock.

Jack bursts into cackles at Brock's frozen face, nearly doubling over in laughter. He quickly fumbles for his phone to try and take a picture. His parents would love this. Maybe he'll get it framed. Brock looks good with pink-tinged cheeks from the sub zero temperatures and snow sliding down his nose and forehead. Photo taken and saved, he sends it to everyone in the family.

"Brock! Im sorry!" Frank sputters out. He rushes to his side and goes to wipe Brock's face.

Shaking his head hard to dislodge as much as he can, Brock tries to wipe his face on his shoulder. He's already half-frozen and shivering. This just makes it worse. A small groan of a whimper escapes as Frank approaches. He mutters, "I hate you." 

"I didn't mean to hit you in the face, baby!" Frank says as he pulls a piece of snow from the collar of Brock's shirt, "I'm sorry!" 

"Don't make me white wash you Frankenweenie." Christine threatens as she opens the door for Brock. 

Brock dashes inside for the safety of the warmth. He drops the luggage and tries to warm up while the others follow after. He wants to go home but he'll take dry and toasty clothing instead. Maybe a nice cuddle session with Frank by the fire.

Linda hands Brock his keys, "Here you go sweetheart. Go get warm. Your room has a fireplace."

"Okay thank you," he replies, he runs for the elevator, not caring he's leaving his family behind. When it comes to the cold; it was every man for himself. 

"Brock! Wait for me!" Frank shouts and follows him. 

He waits in the elevator just long enough for the others to catch up. He fidgets slightly. "Hurry up!" 

Frank joins him and stands close to him, "We should get you a big winter coat and some boots and gloves!" 

"Okay," he nods. "And a space heater. In front of the fire!"

"I think you're being a little dramatic, love." Frank snickers.

"Rude," Brock returns lightly. "And here I thought you were going to join me." 

"Oh I am. But why do you need a space heater when you have a Frankie?" He asks with a playful smile.

"Cause I need all of the warmth." 

"Greedy, greedy." Frank grins.

The elevator door opens to their floor. 

The room is nice, the entryway splits leads them to the bedroom where a large stone fireplace stands waiting for them. The curtain is cracked letting in light from the outside as snow begins to build on the railing of the balcony. Frank steps into the bathroom, "Baby! The tub is huge! We could take a bath!" 

"Ohhh I like the sound of that," Brock grins, setting down their bags. He shrugs off his thick insulated coat and shivers. "Want to take a bath now? I'm cold." 

"Yes! I would love that!" Frank says, stripping his coat and kicking his wet sneakers off. 

Brock swears he never moved so fast, stripping down to nothing and quickly starting the bath. Sitting in the filling tub, he draws his knees up to his chest and tries to conserve body heat. Fuck, he's cold!

Frank slips into the tub and rests against Brock. He opens his mouth to say something but stops. He changes his mind and speaks softly, "I kinda wish you didn't hate the snow." 

"I wish it wasn't so cold," Brock says softly, pulling Frank flush against him and cuddling him to seek refuge from the chill in his skin and bones.

"That's why you layer up and play!" Frank says softly as he reaches back and runs a hand over Brock's neck, "I still wanna fool around by the fire." 

"Once I'm toasty and relaxed, you can sex me up," he chuckles in Frank's neck. He presses his cold nose behind Frank's ear.

"Are you going to participate in any outdoor activities?" Frank asks as he wiggles a little. The breath tickles his neck. 

"Maybe. No skiing or snowboarding though. And only if I'm wearing at least four layers of thermal clothing and coats." He really doesn't want to be outside at all but he loves this family and Frank. It would be terrible for him to sulk the whole trip. He's willing to try; for his husband.

"I wouldn't make you ski or snowboard. Maybe we could go sledding?" Frank rubs his arm. 

He hesitates a little, envisioning him sliding down a hill. "Maybe. I make no promises other than to try, amore mio."

After their bath and amazing sex, Brock's phone chirps with a text from Linda telling them to meet at the restaurant at 7pm for a late dinner. Frank gets dressed in plain jeans and a t-shirt. He pulls on Brock's hand to get out of bed, "Baby. I'm hungry! You gotta feed your gattino. Or he might die of starvation." 

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Hold your horses, gattino." Brock sits up and pulls Frank to him. "Patience is a virtue, kitten." 

"Are you gonna teach me patience, lover?" Frank grins wide before kissing him, "Cause I dunno if I can corral these horses."

"Well that would mean you were a herding dog and not a kitten. So. Good luck with horses," he chuckles. Standing, he yawns and stretches before moving to get dressed.

Frank sits and watches Brock get dressed. His love is gorgeous. He is perfect. Frank rises to his feet and approaches Brock's back. He presses his own lips to the muscular back. "Wanna build a snowman?" 

Brock laughs softly, "And name it Olaf?"

"Okay!?" Frank beams up, "or we could go for a sleigh ride?" 

"Dinner first. Afterwards, we'll get me bundled up and then decide what I can tolerate. How's that?"

"Okay! That works for me. I just would hate for you to be cooped up all week and missing out." Frank pulls his sweatshirt from the back of the chair. He should wear a coat but maybe he can get away with this.

"Honestly, I was thinking along similar lines earlier. Difference was that I was thinking I should at least try to participate in some things so that I'm not bringing down the rest of the family." He finishes getting dressed with a thermal layer under his sweatshirt and jeans. He's not sure how much bundling he'll need. "Where are we going for dinner? Is it here at the lodge or out in the frozen tundra? Am I going to need 2 layers or 4?"

"It's on property. It's the steakhouse called Flame." Frank smiles, "I think 2 is good. Maybe an extra pair of socks." 

Nodding, he adds a fleece pair of socks over his regular ones. Then he adds a hoodie over his sweatshirt and grabs his gloves. At a least minute decision, he grabs his sherpa weighted blanket. "Okay. I think I'm good…. Oh! A scarf. So my face don't freeze off."

Frank laughs, "Baby. We are walking like a hundred yards from the entrance to another entrance. You look like we are going over donner pass."

"I don't do well in the cold. You know that. Cut me some slack. Please," Brock grumbles. He gives his husband a half-smile to take the sting out of his words. 

"Ditch the blanket, Tamsen Donner." Frank chuckles as he pulls it off his husband, "I'll keep you warm." 

”Okay but if you don't, you'll regret it," Brock warns good-naturedly. "I'm going to be your popsicle koala." 

With a mischievous grin Frank turns and takes his hand, "A Brock-sicle?" He pulls Brock out of their room and into the cold, the snow is coming down harder. The cold cotton puffs land in Frank's hair and stick, refusing to melt. Linda opens the restaurant door and urges them in.

"Should've kept my blanket," grumbles Brock. He shakes the snowfall off of himself and waits for the others.

"It's not even cold." Carolyn says as she steps into the building. 

"Anything under 70 and Brock is bundled up." Frank comments.

"Right this way," Linda says as she waves them back, "I got us a big table." 

Frank takes Brock's hand, "Come baby."

Brock follows Frank to the table and sits. He's still got a chill through him which causes him to huddle a little in his hoodie. 

The place is nice with a high vaulted ceiling, picture windows with natural lighting and chandeliers. Christine is sitting at the table with Frank Sr and Emma. A much older man and woman sitting beside the baby, fawning over her. The woman looks up and stands to greet Brock. 

"You must be our Frankie's friend." She says with a thick Italian accent. Her hand extends to him, "I am Rose. The kids call me Gramma Rose." 

"Gramma, this is my husband." Frank says softly.

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," Brock says politely, "I'm Brock." 

"He's very handsome. Good stock. Nice and sturdy. Do you like him Linda?" Rose asks. 

Brock smiles at Rose and decides that he's going to allow her "secret" conversation with Linda, until he knows where he's going to stand with the matriarch of the family. He can't fault her for talking about him in her native tongue; he does the same thing. He sends a prayer that Rose is more like Linda and not Carolyn.

"Yes momma. He's a good man." Linda replies.

"He's a bit old for the baby. Do you think he treats him well? Got a firm hand on him?" Rose asks as she takes her seat.

Brock takes Frank's hand and leads him to the table, holding out a chair for him. As he does, he whispers in Frank's ear, "I got compared to livestock. Win for me. Italians love horses. But I'm old so that's a negative point. It's like listening in on a secret vote."

"Except you don't like horses." Frank replies low. He's got tingles going down his side as Brock whispers in his ear, "And I like that you're old. Means I can outrun you." 

"He's old country Italian, mama. He loves Frankie. He takes good care of the baby." Linda replies.

"He's old." The older man next to Emma says staring at Brock. 

"Poppa, this is my husband, Brock." Frank says offering Brock to his grandfather, "Brock this is my grandfather, Antonio." 

"He doesn't look like a cheap Italian knockoff mobster." The old man says. 

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Brock extends his hand to shake and wonders what else Carolyn has been telling her parents about him.

"Nice to meet you." Antonio slowly rises and takes Brock's hand. He gives him a firm shake before, "He looks like he's never been in snow before." 

"He looks like a fat child at the dinner table." Rose smiles warmly at her husband.

"Be nice you two. He's a good man. He loves your grandson." 

"He looks like he builds houses." Antonio comments.

Jack moves and makes his way to sit beside Brock. So far he's hung back and let his big brother handle the extended family. Something he's now eternally grateful for because the things these two old birds were saying was gold. He's dying with laughter inside and can't wait to poke fun at him later.

"Gramma Rose and Grandpa Tony, this is Jack. He's Brock's brother and one of my best friends." Frank grins introducing him. 

"He's a tough looking one. Real bruiser type." Antonio comments to his wife.

"Must be islanders. They don't look like they have seen a day of hard work in their lives." Rose replies before rising and extending her hand, "Gramma Rose, is Jack short for anything?"

Antonio nods at Jack. 

"No ma'am. Thankfully too. I get enough teasing from Frank and the other boys as it is," he replies, shaking her hand and returning the nod to Antonio.

"What do you boys do for a living?" Rose asks.

"Hand model and an actor." Antonio snorts.

"We work with the band," Brock says. "My brother's an excellent bodyguard for the boys. I was the tour manager though I take on a different aspect now- handling finances and setting up tours for the label. All within the comfort of my home."

"He also goes out on the road with us and acts as fill-in for security. Or my bodyguard." Frank squeezes Brock's hand.

"Ah you're music men." Antonio says with a nod.

"Wouldn't last a day in the fields." Antonio says softly to his wife. Emma makes a noise as she tries to get her pop-pops attention.

"Where do you live?" Rose asks. 

"We live in New York, Gramma." Frank sighs at the interrogation.

"Bet he's got a string of ex wives and lovers. Probably kids our baby's age." Antonio says with a sigh before kissing Emma on the head.

Carolyn smirks at Brock. She takes a sip of wine and gives Jack a look. She knows that they both understand. This tickles her. Too bad Linda got to them first. 

Brock focuses on the menu and ignores the quickly turning snide comments. It seems that he'll have to prove himself if it wants to gain the approval of Linda's parents. Or not. He's not sure if it's worth fighting for. His hand on Frank's knee tightens a little. "What are you in the mood for, baby?" 

"I want meatballs but I can't have. Maybe fettuccine?" Frank rests his head on Brocks shoulder, he leans up, "Whatever they are saying doesn't matter. I married you for a reason." 

Humming his agreement, he returns to looking over the menu. Maybe he could go for chicken. Meatballs did sound appealing. 

"Do you have previous marriages?" Antonio asks.

"No, sir," Brock replies.

"Oh. That is good." He nods at Brock with a small smile.

"Not married before. That's good." Rose comments as he looks at the menu.

"Thank God," Jack coughs before grinning at Brock.

"I hear you, brother and your jab doesn't work because I agree with you," Brock replies snidely.

Frank giggles, "I get to be his first and last." 

"Where are you boys from?" Antonio asks. He notes the physical difference between the two men surrounding his grandson.

"As Frank said before, New York," Jack answers carefully. He's not sure just how much Brock is wanting to withhold.

"Oh good. New York is nice if you like hustle." Rose nods. 

"Brock is a hard non believer in the metaphysical." Carolyn comments.

Frank snorts.

"Do you not believe in angels, Brock?" Rose asks.

"I am Catholic, and while I believe in God and angels, I do not believe He speaks to people as Carolyn claims. Psychics aren't real; they are charlatans who swindle good people out of their money using techniques anyone can master. For this reason, Carolyn and I do not get along."

"Carolina has nuts loose in her head." Antonio snorts as he rolls his eyes, "A bit touched." 

"Dad!" Carolyn says shocked.

"You've never been solid on the ground. Not like Linny. She's got a good head." Antonio smiles at Linda. He doesn't care that he's making his favorites known.

Brock fights to keep a neutral face. Hearing her own father isn't a fan of Carolyn's "angels" warms his heart. "Unfortunately, Carolyn is also unable to get along with someone who doesn't agree with her. She tends to be very spiteful. That is the biggest reason we do not get along."

"Not to mention, she is quite homophobic." Frank whispers.

"Yeah there is that," nods Brock.

"You can't be afraid of gay people. They are very nice! Look at Brock with Frankie." Rose says with a smile, "He seems quite nice." 

"Thank you, Rose." 

A waiter approaches their table and takes the orders and drink order. He disappears and leaves the table to converse. 

"You met Frank at work? In the music...uh, room?" Antonio asks.

Brock chuckles, "I ran into him at a department store. And then kidnapped him from his evil bitch of an ex."

"Oh. Are you talking about the girl with the snakes?" Antonio asks. He scoots close, he's not one to turn down good gossip.

"Yes, but I know nothing about snakes. Are you meaning pets?" Brock inquires.

"I don't know if she had pets. She was very slippery. A bad woman. Not meant for the baby of the family." Antonio states. 

"Agreed. She was a vile woman. I'm ever thankful that Frank chose me instead." Brock smiles at Frank before taking a risk and kissing his cheek.

"I am glad I found you." Frank grins wide and kisses him back. He doesn't care about the table or their opinion.

"He's got moon eyes for him." Rose comments, her tone is gentle and sweet. 

"Jamia was a nice young lady. Just misunderstood." Carolyn says quietly in a huff.

"You two need to be nice to Brock and Jack. They are a part of the family." Linda warns her parents.

"He doesn't know what we are saying." Rose smiles fondly at Brock and Frank, "If the baby is truly happy. Then I am fine with his choice. He's got a good job." 

“Thank you, ma’am. I like to think that I make Frank very happy. He’d tell me if he wasn’t.”

Frank Sr leans over to Jack, "Just wait for the cousins to come. You boys will have a good time with them." 

“There’s more?” Jack laughs.

"There's more. Most of them aren't invited. Linda isn't a fan of most her cousins. My parents and sister with her kids and grandkids are coming too." Frank Sr comments.

Christine gives Brock a look before taking a sip of her wine.

Jack turns to his brother. “And I thought we had a large family, Brock.”

“Apparently not,” he replies with a chuckle. 

"Is it just you two boys in your family?" Antonio asks. 

Frank casually drops his hand to Brock's upper thigh and gives him a little squeeze.

“No, sir. I have a twin sister. Our parents, of course, an uncle on my father’s side with two daughters, and a cousin from my mother’s side who shares the same name as you. Well, the American version anyway.” Brock sips his wine.

"Linny, why didn't you invite the man's family?" Rose asks.

"Because momma, they have lives too." 

"Who ordered the fettuccine?" The waiter says with a smile at Frank. He begins passing out the plates. 

"So, the plan for the week is going to be passed out tomorrow but since all of the people I care the most about are here, you get to know first." Linda grins.

"We made shirts." Carolyn says excitedly, "And you have to wear them for the group photo." 

Brock raises an eyebrow at seeing Carolyn’s excitement over what he assumes is matching shirts. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her genuinely happy before. This both unnerves him and intrigues him. “What kind of shirts? I’m going to assume they are matchy and have something to do with the family name? Or.…?”

"They are color coded t-shirts for each part of the family branches. It's got a little pocket with Iero-Morelli Family reunion. The back has the last two digits of your birth. There is a plan for that later. I also took the time to make wine glasses for the adults." Carolyn says with a chipper tone. 

“Sounds like fun,” Brock grins. He can’t believe he just agreed with Carolyn. His brain reminds him that he probably doesn't get a shirt or a wine glass. But still, that is kinda cool and he wishes his family did something like this.

"I paid for the close families hotel rooms and your glasses and shirts are free too. But the rest of them agreed to pay for their own. There's going to be 26 of us." Linda smiles, "After we eat before dessert, I will pull them out and hand them to you all." 

"We are excited because we get to add two new branches to the tree this year." Carolyn nods at her sister.

“Oh?” Brock tilts his head. Why were there two new branches? 

"Yes. You are one of them." Carolyn says a little shocked he didn't get it.

“Did Linda bully you into saying that,” he asks. He knows full well just how much Carolyn despises him and Jack.

"Despite our difference, you're still family because Franklin picked you." Carolyn nods.

Brock just stares at her in pure shock. He’s never heard anything nice out of her mouth, much less civil. He doesn’t know how to respond. “Th-Thank you.”

She nods before taking a bite of her food. The table falls a little quiet as everyone begins their meal. The wine gets drunk and soon each plate is empty except for Emma and Frank's. 

Brock leans over and whispers in Frankie’s ear, “Eat, tesoro. Just a little more. Please.”

Frank knows he should. He's put on a little weight and it feels wrong. He makes a face for a moment then takes another bite. He wants to make Brock happy. He also is terrified of getting fatter because his little demons tell him Brock will not love him any heavier.

Rose watches the interaction and elbows her husband. "The baby is too skinny and the husband is making him eat. See, he's a good one. Good stock."

“Good boy,” Brock purrs in Frank’s ear. “You know how much I love your squishy tummy. You’re perfect no matter what, tesoro. I love you and I just want you healthy.”

Frank lets out the faintest moan as the tingles run down his side before he speaks softly, "I know. I love you too." 

"He keeps eating pasta like that and he will be a nice plump Christmas ham." Antonio says with a smile.

“I like the sound of that,” Brock smirks at Frank. “Not too plump though, I do like my Twinkie to stay a twinkie. Just a little stuffed.”

"I do like being stuffed. Im working on eating." Frank speaks before taking a bite.

"While my little panda eats some more, I am gonna pass out the shirts and Carolyn will hand out the glasses!" Linda announces with glee. She pulls a tote bag out and begins to hand Blue shirts to Rose and Antonio. Gray to Frank Sr, Christine and Emma. She hands a deep scarlet color to Brock before kissing the top of his head.

Frank and Jack also get the vibrant red shirts. 

“Thank you, Linda,” Jack beams at her.

“Yes, thank you, Momma Linda.”

Carolyn places a box in front of Brock and Frank then Jack. "Here you go boys."

Frank opens his shirt and flips it over and sees a big 81 with Iero Rumlow on the back in a sports team-esque font, "Baby! Look!" 

“Looks pretty awesome, babe!”

"What's yours look like?"

Brock shows Frank the back of the shirt with his surname on it and an equally large 58 on it. “God I’m old.”

"No. You're perfect." Frank says pushing his plate away before leaning up and kissing Brock's cheek, "Vintage." 

“Look Brock, this time I’m greater than you,” Jack says, proudly showing off his shirt with the giant 65 on the back. 

“You wish. I’ll still kick your butt.” Brock playfully shoves his little brother.

Frank laughs.

"True brothers." Rose grins.

After dinner and a quick dessert, Brock rushes back to the hotel with Frank in tow to spend the rest of the night under blankets, cuddling and kissing. The next morning starts early with family breakfast and meeting the newcomers.

At a moment where everything seems to be calm, Frank grabs Brock's hand and pulls him outside. Despite his protest, he pulls him into the snow.

"We've been inside all day. All the kids have gravitated to you. I want my Brock time…" Frank says before kissing him.

“Well, I do aim to please. On occasion,” Brock smirks before kissing him and wrapping his arms around his husband.

"Wanna go for a walk?" 

“Sure.” Brock pulls back and adjusts his two coats and pulls them tighter around him. 

"If I knew you wouldn't protest and whine, I'd suggest a little fun in the snow." Frank walks ahead of him only to turn and walk backwards so he can look at his hubby's face.

“Has the colder air made you insane?” Brock’s eyes widen. Who in their right mind would fool around in snow and ice? He shivers just thinking about it. “Hell no. I love you and I would do anything for love. But I won’t do that.”

"It's just a little snow… a quick snowjob..." Frank giggles. He invades Brock's space and tucks his hands into Brock's coat. He's looking for skin.

“Really? A snowjob? That’s terrible,” Brock moves his lower half of his body away from Frank. “And I don’t want your ice cold hand on my dick.”

"Ice cold hand?! I am offended, lover." Frank laughs, "Maybe I just want a hug."

As he walks backwards, his foot slips and he makes a whoop sound. His fingers find Brock's skin and hold on.

Brock yelps at the feeling of an ice cube touching skin causing goosebumps to spread over his flesh. Still, he instinctively holds onto his husband to keep him from falling. He would hate to have Frankie injured. "Are you okay, baby?" 

"Yeah. Issa little slippery." Grinning up at Brock with a pink nose. He wraps himself tighter to Brock, "You good baby?!" 

"Yeah. Just a little frostbitten from your hands but it's better than you getting a bonked head." 

"You should lemme warm my fingers here for a minute." Frank can help but we googly eyes and grins at Brock. He takes a moment before speaking again, "Wanna build a snowman?"

“No, but for you, okay. As long as I don’t have to touch the cold barehanded.”

"Don't you have three pairs of gloves on?" Frank teases.

“Yeah, but they aren’t super thick. So, how do we build a snowman? Is it really like they do on TV?”

A little shocked, "I still forget that you grew up on an island." He steps back and turns to the snow and picks up a clump and molds it to a snowball, "You start here and get yourself prepared to be cold." 

He weighs the idea in his head and decides to do it. He hucks the snowball at Brock. This one hitting his arm. "But it only works if you participate." 

Brock flinches and glares at Frank. “Rude! I’m going to participate. Jerk.”

"Sounds more like you're whining..." Frank grins as he picks up more snow to throw.

“I don’t see how this is building a snowman. Seems more like you’re trying to start a snowball fight.”

"I mean, I would win… so is it really a fight?" Frank hucks the snowball at Brock again, "You're gonna play with me… one way or another."

Brock looks around and down at the snow. Bending down, he hesitantly touches the snow before scooping up a handful like he saw Frankie do. It falls apart in his hands and he frowns, unsure what he did wrong. He glances at his husband.

"You gotta compact it." Frank says with a tenderness. His husband is adorable. 

Oh. He tries again, this time scooping and molding it like he would dough. It stays in his hand much like a frozen scoop of ice cream made out of pure ice. 

Frank grins even wider, he's getting it! 

“Now what? Awfully small for a snowman.” Brock looks down at the ball in his hand that is starting to melt. 

"You... You throw that at me..." Frank tilts his head to the side. 

“I thought we were going to build a snowman?” Brock finds the texture of the snow rather interesting. How can frozen water crunch?

"Yeah. We are." Frank lets the snowball he had fall to the ground, "You gotta keep building it up. Or you can be like Emma and push all the snow on your knees into a clump."

He didn't get it. Frank wanted to play but this is fine. He steps closer to Brock, fucking sunny beachy boy. 

Turning to look at the little girl and watch her, he decides that shoving snow around using hands is a far better option than using knees. Holding his first ever snowball carefully, he squats down and adds some more snow to it, building it up a little. “Like this? Isn’t there a faster way?”

"I mean, probably. But you're supposed to be doing it with someone you love and it is supposed to be a bonding experience." Frank drops to his knees beside Brock, "But you gotta make it bigger. Like really big!" 

He gathers a large armful of snow and begins packing it as best he can. He sets it on the ground and tried to gather more snow. He throws another clump of snow at Brock with a grin before he starts rolling the snow to his ball. The snow lands on Brock's head causing Frank to giggle. As he starts to make his middle bigger, the snow in the tree above gives way. It's grown too heavy for its branches and falls to the ground and on Frank. 

"Oh fuck!" He shouts as snow slips into his shirt, on his neck and in his ears. It's cold and he's no longer having fun. He sits in the snow on his knees and pouts.

Brock erupts into giggles, stopping in his snowball building. Getting an idea, he takes his very first snowball and lobs it at Franks head. It lands and he shouts in victory. That’ll teach Frankie to be nicer to him and the evil cold. He points at Frank, laughing loud and hard, “That’s karma, baby!”


	23. A Very Strange Salesman Visits

Frank closes the pantry door and begins to fold the reusable bags. He likes going shopping without Brock for groceries. He can buy the off brand things and not have to argue about how it's the same thing, just cheaper. He tucks them in a cupboard before fluttering towards the bedroom for the laundry. Brock would be home in two hours and he should start dinner in an hour and a half. 

A knock on the door pulls him from his chores. It's unexpected. He's not anticipating any packages. Brock didn't mention anything. He goes to the door and peers through the peephole, only to find it covered by something. 

Alarms are going off in his head. It feels wrong. The air in the room has gone stale and feels heavy.

"I know you're in there," A man's voice calls from the other side of the door.

Frank jumps a little as the stranger bangs violently on the front door. He takes a step back and feels this throat tighten. 

"I know he's not there either. Open the door and nothing bad will happen." The voice continues, "Or. I make my way in and you won't like that." 

"Nor will he." 

"What… what do you want?!" Frank asks with a shaky voice. 

"I'm just a salesman…" His voice is dark and sends a chill down Frank's spine. No, you're not.

"Yeah, I'm not letting you in." Frank says firmly. 

"Have it your way." The stranger says darkly. 

Frank takes a step back towards his phone as the sound of something hard and heavy slams into the door. He makes a little noise and jumps. He grabs his phone and books it for Brock's office. 

His hand is shaking as he dials Brock's number. 

"Pick up. Please!" Frank speaks quietly as he moves around the desk for the gun under Brock's desk. He can hear the sound of the door being battered, "Brock! Please!" 

Frank quietly closes the door to the office and shoves Brock's desk in front of his door. He can't remember the damn code for the panic room. 

The voicemail picks up, "This is Brock Rumlows direct line. You should not have this number." 

"Brock! Someone is breaking into the apartment. I can't remember the code. Im freaking out! Please help me!" Frank whispers frantically into the phone. He hangs up and looks at the number. 

"Fuck." He hisses at himself. He needs to make his office number different. He dials Brock's cell and sits at the end of the desk. He whispers softly, "Please. Pick up." 

He listens to the phone ring and makes a small cry as the sound of the entry door giving way booms as it crashes to the ground. 

"I know you're here!" The man's angry voice fills the apartment. He can hear the sound of the man stomping around.

"Hello?" Brock answers.

"Panic room. What's the door code!?" Frank whispers as he skips the pleasantries, "I don't have much time!" 

Frank cries as the office door jolts and shakes the desk. 

"I'll rip out the fucking wall, little one!" The voice sounds angrier as the door jerks again from being slammed into again. Frank holds his breath.

"Code's 032692," Brock rattles off. "What's going on, Frank?!"

Frank counts to three and rushes to the panic room door. He enters the code and the door pops open. Onces he's inside he slams the door shut, just in time for the office door to crash open.

"Someone broke in." Frank says quietly.

"Motherfucker! How?! The door is reinforced and can withstand bullets. Jesus."

Frank makes a noise as the sound of gunshots echo against the metal door, "I don't know! He's in our house! He knows who we are…" 

"Fuck. Did you see who it is?"

"No he blocked the peephole!" Frank whispers.

"I'll burn this house down, Rumlow!" The man shouts. 

"This is fire proof right?!" Frank whispers now in full panic, "I don't want to die, baby."

"Up to 1,000° baby. Plenty of time for firefighters to rescue you. You're behind several tons of steel that's been coated with Vibranium. Twice. Same stuff that Cap's shield is made of, remember? He can't get to you."

"Okay. Brock, I'm really scared…" Frank whispers. 

"I'll knock off you and the rest of the clan, Rumlow! You and your faggot boy toy!" The stranger shouts before firing another barrage of bullets into the panic room door. 

"You'll be fine, baby. Police and Tony are on their way. He's gonna fly you to the Tower, okay? I'm going to meet you there."

Frank can feel the tears roll down his face, "Okay! Do I ask him what he wants?" 

"Yeah, see if you can keep him talking." 

"Who are you?!" Frank asks with a shaking voice.

"Mr. Sal." The man's voice echoes in the panic room. 

"Wh-what do you want from us?!" Frank asks.

"Rumlow knows what he and his bitch of a sister did to the Gambinos," The voice growls as the sound of a hammer or something heavy crashes into the wall, "He knows what they did to Rosario and Giuseppe."

"Oh," Brock whispers. 

"What's that mean?" He asks quietly.

"They were running a heroin ring. I had to put an end to it," he replies softly into the receiver.

"Oh. He's the enforcement?" Frank asks quietly. Each loud clang of metal on metal makes him jump, "What happens if he gets in here?" 

"Pray that Tony gets to you in time," Brock says with a wet thickness to his voice. He whispers, "I'm sorry, baby. I love you." 

"I love you too." Frank says softly, "Will you keep talking to me? Tell me about your day? Anything…" 

"Well, I learned quite a bit about whales today. And something called chickpeas. Murphy ranted on about the misnomer because they don't come from chickens. They are pea shaped though."

"As in hummus, chickpeas?" 

"Yeah," Brock chuckles. "Hummus is great but I didn't necessarily need the lesson on how it's made. Or that you can just eat them as they are. It's dumb but then again everything Murphy's into is dumb to me."

Frank gives a nervous chuckle.

An impossibly loud sound of glass exploding before crashing to the floor makes Frank drop to the floor of the panic room. "I don't know what that was!" Frank cries out, "Keep talking!" 

"What the holy hell?" Mr. Sal shouts.

The sound of the office wall exploding rattles the panic room ever so slightly. 

"Who let the Neanderthal out of the museum?" Tony quips. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Stark?!" Sal asks before firing a bullet at Tony. 

"You didn't think that was gonna do much, did you Fat Tony?" Stark replies seconds before police flood the apartment.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a damsel to save." Tony says as he enters Brock's destroyed office. His face mask folds away as he knocks then presses the buttons to open the door.

"Tony's here..." Frank says softly.

"Good. Thank God." 

"Are you at the tower?" Frank asks.

"You're not a princess..." Tony jokes as he opens the door, "I was told there's a damsel in distress..." 

"Tony," Brock groans out his name. He answers Frank, "I'm not, but headed there as it's closest to me then the apartment. I'm gonna see you soon, tesoro."

"I love you." Frank says softly.

"Aw, I like you too, Frankenstein!" Tony jokes.

"Tony, take care of Frankie. Drive safe. I'm almost to the Tower. I gotta call Dad when I get there. Not sure who's going to be more pissed, Mom or Dad." Brock's not entirely sure if Tony can hear him but if he's nearby, he might. Frank could just convey the message.

Tony offers a hand to Frank, "I got him. See you soon, Rumlow." 

A few minutes later, after a quick and terrifying flight, Frank is delivered, cold but safely to Stark Tower. Tony disappears into his lair, leaving Frank to make an entrance into the living room where Brock is waiting anxiously.

"Hi polpetto." Frank's voice is soft but still terrified.

"Frank!" Brock hurries over to wrap him up into a tight hug. He peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. "I love you." 

Frank holds him tight. "Love you more." 

"So uh, Rumlow… if you need a good realtor, uh, let me know…" Tony says as he enters the room. 

"Realtor? Just how bad is my apartment?" Brock exclaims looking at Tony. 

Frank buries his face in Brock's chest. He's gonna be pissed.

"Should we move, Frankie?" He hugs Frank tight and rubs his back.

"Mmhmm." Frank mumbles into Brock's chest.

"You should probably not waste too much time here… I don't know exactly what the weather's gonna be like soon." Tony says as he rubs his neck.

"Where's Jack?!" Frank pops his head up like a little meerkat coming out of his burrow.

"He's fine. He's safe, amore mio. I had talked to him before you called. He's on a date." Brock leans down and kisses the top of Frank's head. His palm comes up to cup Frank's head and gently push him back down against him. A signal to just relax and come down from the adrenaline spike. He returns to rubbing Frank's back.

"I can loan you a Stark proto type car. Think like a Tesla but much nicer." Tony offers.

"Don't tell Jack that. He loves Tesla cars. But, yeah, I would appreciate that. Thank you," nods Brock.

"Don't mention it. Like ever. I've got a reputation to keep. Can't be seen philandering around with commoners. Might give the wrong impression," Tony quips with a smirk.

"What, that you have a heart? Or that you came at my beck and call?" Brock laughs.

Frank knows that Tony isn't a touchy feely person but frankly, he doesn't care. He hugs the man briefly before following Brock to the garage. His fingers staying firmly laced with Brock's. 

As they arrive at the apartment, Frank's stomach knots. He clenches Brock's hand before they get out. The police are still there, but it's only one squad car. Probably just watching over the place until they return. As soon as they get off the elevator, the damage is evident. 

"Breathe, Brock." Frank reminds him.

Brock's brain is certain his eyes are lying to him. Everything was destroyed in some way. His eyes can't focus on one spot as he carefully steps through the apartment that looks like a hurricane tore through. He notes the kitchen is trashed as the wind from the busted windows scatters papers across the living room and kitchen.

"Did he or they actually rob the place, or just ransack it?"

"Ransack." Frank stands by the large hole in the wall.

"Fucker," Brock grumbles lightly, approaching the hole and Frank. "My poor wall." 

"The window." Frank whispers.

Brock steps into his office, noting the missing door, and he just stops and stares at the damage. How could one man do so much? What the hell did he have? A sledgehammer? Chainsaw? He groans at the disaster. "My office!" 

Frank pauses. "He had guns. And like a battering ram thingy." 

"He destroyed the wall by the panic room and gun safe." Frank speaks carefully from a distance. His face is pale. Being here is terrifying, "Tony ruined the window..." 

"Tony," Brock groans. Trust Stark to enter with a flair of grandeur. Typical Tony. "I'm going to make him pay for that. Just on principle."

Frank nods. His voice feels small, "Where do we start to fix this? I can go to the hardware store?"

"No need, baby. We're not staying here. I'll have a clean up team come through and fix everything." Brock goes over to him and wraps him in a hug.

"Oh. Okay. Where are we gonna go?" Frank grips Brocks shirt and buries his face in his chest, "Tony's?" 

"Maybe. Or Jack's? What do you want to do?"

"I'll get us a hotel." Frank says with a nod. 

"Okay baby. You do that while I speak with the police, okay?" Brock kisses Frank gently.

Nods, "Suite?"

"You know me so well, baby. We should get a good one since we might be staying there for a few days."

"Okay, upper floor. Corner room?" Frank nods as he looks at his phone.

"Preferably. Call them to make sure," Brock pats his back before stepping away to speak with the police. Afterwards, he'll call his father and call a meeting of the other Heads. He's out for blood now.

"Yes, polpetto." Frank nods as he begins booking the room for four days as well as adding a spa package for his hubby.


	24. I Had No Clue

Stretched out on the couch with a blanket over him and Brock under him, a strong arm holding him in place as the television quietly plays, Frank pulls his phone closer and opens up the Tik Tok app. It's oddly addictive, these people are fascinating. 

He scrolls through his feed.

"It's rotting your brain." Brock comments before kissing his ear. 

"Yeah but it's entertaining." Frank chuckles as a video of cute red pandas playing starts on his screen, "See!" 

"Okay… that's adorable." Brock chuckles.

Frank scrolls through more videos. A video plays with a familiar face, he smirks as he comes close to the screen. 'Bibbity bobbity boo' plays as the man steps back, revealing a lightsaber in hand with a smirk on his face. The light flips off and the lightsaber glows red as it circles his head before revealing a very tight and cut body.

"Looks like Jack," Brock comments.

"Oh. My. God." Frank's mouth falls open.

"It's Jack!" Frank says pressing the icon and revealing a whole playlist of him doing as the kids call it, "thirst trap videos".

"No way!" Brock sits up a little as Frank plays another video. 

In the video, Jack adjusts the cuff of his shirt, smirks at the camera before stretching long. The camera flickers and he's shirtless and flexing his muscles.

"Your brother makes thirst trap videos!" Frank laughs. 

"Send that to me," Brock laughs.

Frank sends it to him then quickly shoots a text to Jack. 

Frank: I was scrolling through Tik Tok.

Jack: And.

Frank: well… have you been thirsty lately?

Jack: no, I have water. 

Frank sends the video to him.

Jack: Do not show Brock. He won't ever let me live this down.

Frank: he saw…

Jack: Fuck!

"I wanna mess with Jack but I don't know how… or what…" Frank speaks softly as he looks up at Brock.

"Can you message people on these clock videos?" Brock asks with a tilt of his head. 

"Clock?" Frank asks with a grin, "But, yes you can, babe." 

"Clock because you said tick tock… Like a clock?" Brock shakes his head. "You could pretend to be a lady interested?" 

"I love you." Frank chuckles, "Who do you wanna send it to?" 

"Jack… cause you wanted to mess with him, right?" Brock grins.

"Hmmm… " 

"An older lady. Creep him out a little."

"Wanna help?"

"Sure." He grins. Anytime he can mess with his little brother is a good time. 

"I had no clue Jack was that cut..." Frank says as he logs out and begins the sign up process under Anita Mann. 


	25. A Tempting Offer

Day 25: A Tempting Offer

"No! No, it's not going to happen." Frank says, he closes the silverware drawer hard. He doesn't turn to face Brock. He already knows the face Brock is making and he isn't sure he can hold his guns, "No." 

"I know it's less than ideal, baby," Brock trails off.

"What are they offering you?" Frank turns around and leans against the counter before crossing his arms over his chest. Mean face , Iero, er Rumlow.

"Are you bored of married life with me?" Frank asks. They haven't been married a full year. 

"What? No. Please don't think that." 

"What is it then, Brock. We do not need money. Right?" Frank hisses.

"It's not about the money, I promise. Though they tried to up the amount as incentive. Twice. But they've asked me to train recruits. It's the closest thing to working a regular job. I'd be home for lunch everyday and dinner most nights."

"Most nights. Why do you want to go back?!" Frank can feel the emotions building in his chest, "I don't want to share you." 

"I like the physical and mental challenges. Keeps me fit and mentally sharp. I'm… I'm not the type to stay idle for too long. No matter how much I want to."

Frank pouts. They had made plans. They were supposed to go on adventures, "Besides keeping you active, what else did they offer?"

"The usual perks that come with a job plus the ability to do pretty much what I want. Hence the part where I get to go home for lunch and dinner. I don't have to stay on base for the first two weeks of the month. The second set, I do. It's a two week rotation where I'm living on base. But think about it, I'm home every night for two weeks. And lunch. It'll be just like I've got a regular nine-to-five job."

"What? Two weeks, I'm here. Alone!" Frank says in disbelief. He can feel the red flags go up. Something feels weird about Brock. His needy, clingy Brock would be okay with being without him for two fucking weeks. He glares, he's trying to not jump to conclusions. His husband is bored. He's unhappy and he's bored. He can't accept the idea that Brock's found a new boy, a new tiny twink. He drops his head, he looks down and immediately feels sick, "Fine." 

Brock's shoulders slump as he watches Frank give up and be so unhappy. He steps forward and wraps his arms around his husband. "Baby, please… I hate it when you are sad." 

"If you're bored, you need to do something to remedy it. I can't even be a shit and say something like what's in it for me because that is unfair to you. I'm sorry you're unhappy." Frank says as he presses his head into Brock's chest. He doesn't hug Brock back. 

He starts planning on how he's going to cancel the trip he'd been planning for them in secret. He'd turned down a chance to play with another band while his own was on hiatus. 

"I didn't accept the offer." 

"Why not? You want it. Do it. You always tell me not to skip opportunities. Go back and be my sexy commander." Frank says looking up with a smile. 

"Because I want your happiness too. If it was just me, I wouldn't have cared. But it's not just me anymore. And I have to think about us, not me."

"Would you be happy?" Frank asks, "Be honest. A thousand percent honest."

"I don't know, really." Brock shrugs, "If I go back to SHIELD, I go back to HYDRA." 

"We are a team. Yes?" Frank asks again. 

"Always, yes."

"If you go back to HYDRA, they own you. Again." Frank sighs.

"I won't have a choice. I'm fairly certain they let me leave in the first place."

"Oh. What are they going to have to say about me?" Frank rubs Brock's back. 

"I'm sure they'll use you as leverage to get me to comply. Or they'll promise me your safety, one or the two."

Frank snorts, "They ask you for money to take me back..." 

Brock chuckles, "No. I don't think that's how that works. They would probably pay me to take you back."

"I don't know if I am offended or proud!" Frank laughs. 

"Both?" Brock laughs and hugs Frank tighter, "Both is good. You're worth at least a million bucks."

"Wow. I was thinking $2.50 and a McChicken." Frank takes a break, "If you do this, what do I get out of it?

"Make me an offer I can't refuse." He says with a bad italian accent.

"What do you want out of it?" 

"I want you safe. Over everything." Frank says with a sigh, "It's too bad you can't be a double agent. A HYDRA agent but also a SHIELD agent spying on HYDRA."

"That's not a bad idea." Brock nods. The more he thinks about it the more appealing it is. What had HYDRA ever done for him? His experiences only caused him pain and not a whole lot of order. It weighed on his soul like a dark stain he could never escape. He could do it. He'd be able to easily maneuver through the lies and secrecy that comes with the job and filter out who's HYDRA. He has a little reputation that might curry him some favors. The occasional hint dropped at the Avengers might slowly eradicate all of HYDRA and he'd finally be free.

"So… what are you going to do?" Frank asks softly.

"I could help SHIELD get rid of HYDRA. From the inside. I'd be free," he whispers.

"That's exactly what you should do." Frank nods, "Just know I'm not a happy kitten with you going back to work." 

"I know," he replies softly, "and I'm sorry."

"You're just gonna have to make it up to your kitten…" Frank grins wide and leans up to kiss him.

Kissing him back deeply, Brock wraps his arms around Frank and holds him tight. An unsettling feeling grows in his chest. Going back to SHIELD was one thing; going back to SHIELD as HYDRA was another. Suddenly, he wasn't sure this was a good idea, no matter how tempting the offer. He pulls away. "I love you." 

"I love you more. I can hear your wheels turning." Frank says with a goofy grin. 

"It's going to be dangerous and hard. Very dangerous." 

"I know. That scares me too." Frank whispers before cuddling into Brock. 

"We'll get through this. Together," Brock says softly. He inwardly sighs. He was going back to HYDRA.


	26. A Bad Decision

It was a perfect spring day. Frank sips his tea with Jack beside him on the porch at his mom's. Brock was inside fawning over the new baby but the fresh air felt good. 

"It is like a scary perfect day." Frank jokes as he glances at Jack. Jack had been buried in his phone.

“Mmmhmm,” Jack replies without looking up from his phone. 

Frank leans against the railing. He gets an idea in his head. He shakes it away and sits upright. He glances at the space between the twisted iron railing. I bet my head can fit in there. 

No. Don't do it. He argues with himself.

But, what if he can! Maybe he can fit through it. He thinks. He glances at Jack then back to the open screen door. What's the worst that will happen?

Frank shifts his weight and turns to face the railing slightly. He goes for it. It's a little tight but he slides through easily enough. Haha! I knew it! 

Jack glances up at his phone for a moment and sees Frank’s ass sticking out of the railing. He leans over and notices his brother’s head through the railing gaps. He blinks several times. “What the hell are you doing?”

"I just wanted to see if I could fit in the railing." Frank says with a smile. 

“Why in the world would you want to do that?” Jack snickers.

"Why not…?" Frank doesn't have a good answer for that. He turns to pull out and realizes he can't. He shifts his weight and changes the angle to try again.

“That’s why, doofus,” Jack laughs. Opening the camera on his phone, he sets it to record.

"Don't you dare call Brock!" Frank hisses.

“Now why would I do that? What are you gonna do, bärchen?”

"Kick your ass!" Frank yanks his head again and stops because it hurts him. Fuck he's really stuck.

"Maybe I can push through?" Frank asks.

“You may be a tiny twink but I doubt that you are small enough to fit through the bars. Maybe I should get Brock.”

"Jack! No!" Frank says annoyed.

“Well what do you expect me to do then? Get some butter and oil and slick you up like pasta?” Jack stands and goes to him, leaning on the railing beside him.

Frank groans, "I don't know! Why am I an idiot!?" He panics a little and pulls but it feels like his ears are going to be pulled off, "Fuck!!" 

Giggling, Jack pushes off the railing and steps into the house. “Hey, Brock? Linda? Can you guys come outside for a bit?”

Frank tries to wiggle further, his shoulder presses against the railing. He can do this!

"What is it Jack?" Linda says stepping to the door and stopping, "Oh my god." 

Brock follows along, holding the baby up against his chest. He stops at the sight of Frank. Laughter bubbles out of his lips, “What the hell?”

"Jack!" Frank cries out, his shoulders now trapped.

"What the hell are you doing Frank?!" Linda cries out with laughter.

“And more importantly, why?” laughs Brock.

"I thought I could fit!" Frank groans, "I need help!"

Frank kicks his legs a little but it doesn't help either way. Crap, crap, crap, crap! He groans again.

“Jack, please tell me you are getting this,” Brock asks, looking at his brother.

“Oh of course.”

“Great. Linda, do you want me to call the fire department or did you want the honors,” Brock asks.

Linda sighs and heads back into the house. "I'll make the call." 

"Brock. Maybe just give me a good hard pull." Frank whines and kicks his foot.

He wiggles and tries to free himself but it gets worse each time. "Jack! Please help!?" 

“Nah, I think I’ll just continue to record this and save it for the band. They are gonna get a kick outta this,” Jack snickers.

“Stay still, Frank. It’s best to just wait for the fire department. They’ll get you out and we don’t have to risk you getting hurt. Worse. Just.. hang tight, baby.”

Frank groans, "I thought kittens could squeeze through anything!" 

Brock shakes his head. “Yes baby, except you are a much bigger kitten with a big, er, uh. You don’t fit, love.” 

"I know that! I wasn't being serious..." Frank groans. He can hear the sirens in the distance. He was never going to live this down. It was starting to hurt his shoulders. 

"Brock…" Frank says quietly.

“Yeah, tesoro?”

"Too bad we never got those lube necklaces." Frank snorts.

Brock cracks up with laughter which irritates the baby in his arms. Once he settles the infant he offers, "Would you like me to get the bottle of lube?"

"Would it help?" Frank asks, a little desperate. He can hear the sirens closer. Probably at the top of the block. 

"I dunno. I've never been silly enough to try sticking my head in between a railing," he snickers.

"I offered to oil him up like pasta. He didn't like that idea," adds Jack.

"I'm not a noodle!" Frank cries out. 

The fire department's siren blares but quickly dies away. Frank groans as the men crawl down and head towards him. 

"Brock. Do not let Jack post this on the internet?!" Frank pleads.

"I'll do my best, love. But can I, really…" He's teasing of course. He won't let Jack post this online. But he will allow him to send the video to the other boys.

"So what happened here?" A handsome fireman with messy brown hair asks as he approaches them.

"Imma dumbass." Frank sighs.

Brock adds with a laugh, "He thought he was a real kitten." 

"I did not!" Frank protests.

"Have we tried to oil him up and push him out, like a big baby?" Another fireman asks. 

"No." Frank sighs. 

"I have canola oil?" Linda offers.

"Go ahead and pour that on him." 

"We also got baby oil, extra virgin olive oil, butter, and lube," offers Brock unhelpfully. He's finding this way too amusing.

Frank tries to half heartedly kick at Brock, "Not helping!"

Linda dumps the oil on Frank who groans loudly in protest. The firemen push Frank's shoulder but he doesn't budge. It actually is starting to hurt. He tries to wiggle himself but he feels like he's just getting more jammed. 

"Unfortunately, kid. We're gonna have to cut you out." An older fireman says with a smile. 

"You're gonna have a cover over your face." Another one says with a snicker.

"Frank you're replacing my railing!" Linda growls. 

The firemen pull out a large reciprocating blade. A blanket is placed over Frank's face. The sound of the metal being destroyed, laughter, as well as the blood pumping in his veins, thrum in his ears. Brock disappears inside to shelter the baby from the loud noise that is to come. Jack moves on the patio to get the best angle for the video. He's never gonna live this down. A pop of metal and the pressure is gone. The cover is removed and he's pushed the opposite direction. 

"Next time. Don't put your head in the railing." The older fireman says with a grin.

Frank rubs his now oily hair and neck as he nods, "Noted." The memory of Jack recording clicks in his head. He snaps his face to Jack, "You better delete that video, big brother!" 

Jack finishes sending it to the band and nods. "Sure. Now that I've shared your bad decision with the band, I'm happy to delete it, bärchen. They'll get a kick out of it."

"No! Jack!!" 

Brock returns outside. He goes over to Frank and kisses his cheek, giving him a little lick. He tastes the canola oil on his tongue and grins, "Bet you learned your lesson, eh?" 

"Yeah. I got a fat head."

A woman's shriek comes from around the firetruck as Christine comes running towards the house. "My baby! Where is Gracie? Is she okay?!" She hauls ass up the porch and into the house, "Is my daughter okay?!" 

"Wow. She ran right past me and didn't even notice," Brock comments to Frank and to the baby in his arms.

"Yeah, I caught that. Or her brother covered in oil like a pig in a pit." Frank snorts. 

Brock grins deviously at Frank and nudges him. The comment Frank made gave him ideas. "What do you say I pass the princess stinker back to her momma and you and I go about oil wrestling back home?"

Christine steps out and takes the baby from Brock. She cradles her. Christine kisses his cheek. "Thank you for holding her." 

"Oil wrestling, eh?" Frank snickers.

Brock leans over and whispers, "Yeah. You're already lubed up." 

"Oh? Do you have ideas?" Frank smiles up at him. He giggles as Brock playfully swats his butt. 


	27. A Lifelong Curse

Frank stares in the mirror. His pale skin that's painted with his tattoos. He is also dotted with love bites and hickeys on his neck and chest. He runs a hand over his stomach. He sucks in and turns to the side. 

Fifteen is a small number. But to the little 'squish' on his belly, fifteen was a lot.

Since being with Brock, that is how many pounds he's gained. He worries that Brock will notice. He worries that he will stop being attractive. He's cut back on the sweets. He's started running again. His portions have cut back. But he still had the little bicycle tire around his middle.

Throwing on the fluffy white bathrobe to cover himself up, he exits the bathroom and enters the bedroom. He lies on the bed and stares at the ceiling. It seems like there has always been something that he's hated about himself. It's like he's been cursed. Too short. Too pale. Too skinny. Now this. Maybe he'll look into getting a trainer. Get himself all toned and ultra lean. 

He knows Brock will say it's the gremlins. But what if he's only being nice? He is stuck with a fat slob of a boyfriend. He should get new clothes. New jeans. Actual nice shirts. Maybe no more converse shoes and like real shoes. He can do that. Be more presentable, less of an embarrassment. He sits up and moves to the closet. He pulls the holey blue jean down. The ripped black jeans and white jeans too. He folds them up and places them by the garbage can. He sorts through his shirts, he'll put the band shirts in a tote in the basement.

"I need a haircut. A shave and probably a waxing." He says softly to himself. He grabs his phone and sends a text to his hair lady to make an appointment that day. He wants the works. 

He sits on the floor in the closet and begins going through his shoes. He pulls out old shoes. He only has maybe 5 pairs of shoes. But he narrows it down to slip on vans that are new and classic black converse. For now, that will do. 

"If I look the part of the good and respectable boyfriend, it will make me feel good enough." He says to himself as he gets off the floor. He rests his hands in his head and sighs. Why can't he just like himself enough to be comfortable?

A little knock on the bedroom door gets his attention. Entering the bedroom, Brock looks down at him with a confused smile. "What's wrong, baby? Whatcha doing?" 

"Going through my clothes. And shoes. I think I'm going to go get new things." Frank says looking up at Brock. He knows he can't hide the look on his face. He also knows the next question.

"Why?" Brock notes the pants and shoes in a pile near the trash can and the look of utter misery on his love's face. 

"I can afford to have clothing that doesn't have holes in them. I need shirts that are normal. What kind of shoes do guys wear that aren't sneakers? Loafers? Am I a loafer guy? I should invest in a couple suits. Maybe get a signature smell or something…" Frank babbles before trailing off, "I have a hair cut this afternoon." 

"Baby. You don't need those. Especially loafers; you are not a loafer guy. Stand up, come here," Brock says gently, tapping on Frankie's shoulder.

Frank sighs before standing. He turns to face Brock with a nervous feeling in his stomach. He could tell he was hungry. "I just think I could be better..."

"While self-improvement is always a good step, I need you to know that I love you no matter what. You. That means I love you just the way you are. You don't have to change anything for me." Brock stands behind Frank in front of the mirror, wrapping his arms around his middle and undoing the robe. Gently, he pulls the robe off of him before following his words with his hands. "I love you. I love your tattoos." His fingers trace over several tattoos while he presses his lips to his favorite, Scorpio. "I love your pretty pale skin. Especially since it makes the ink and my marks stand out more." His thumb gently rubs over one of the more recent love bites. Trailing down, both of his hands cup the doves at Frank's squishy spot. "I love that you are putting on a little weight. I want you healthy above all else, but if I had my way, you'd be much more rounder. It's an Italian thing. We love food and round men. Look at Mario and Luigi. And every stereotypical Italian man. Looks like they became the meatballs they eat."

Frank sucks his stomach in slightly.

"Don't do that," Brock's voice takes on a sharper, less playful, edge. "I will not allow you to body shame yourself. I like my pillow. I love your tummy."

"I am not attractive with a tire. You like little. Not sloppy." The stomach stays pulled in.

"I still find you attractive. And yes, I like little twinks like yourself, but you can be Twinkie baby and still have soft lines. When have I ever given you the impression otherwise?"

"You haven't. But I know what you fell for looks wise and I don't want to lose that… and I know you say you like it but you look like a Greek god and I look like your little chubby goat friend." Frank sighs and drops his head a little.

Brock exhales a little hard in Frank's hairline. He kisses his neck. "I'm not going to stop you if you were to watch your weight with the intention of maintaining, but I don't want you to drop too much. You don't have to change yourself to keep me interested. I'm in it for the long haul, tesoro. I'm not going anywhere whether you weigh an extra 20lbs or 200lbs. Regardless of my Italian instincts to fatten you up like a meatball, I want you healthy first and foremost."

"I think I'm just cursed. I don't think I will ever be good enough." Frank sighs and rests his head on Brock.

"You are perfect to me. The only critic here is you. Why are you bullying yourself? It's only hurting you." Brock pulls away a little to turn Frank around to face him.

"Cause I don't think I'm what you want if I'm not perfect." 

"So you are calling me a liar then." 

"No." 

"Yes. I tell you I think you are perfect and you tell me you don't think I am telling the truth and that I don't like the way you are. You can't have it both ways," Brock says with a little smile. He's hoping this little logic will bust through the gremlins in Frankie's head. 

"Oh." Frank pauses his spiral. He keeps his stomach tight but his eyes stay locked on Brock's throat. As his brain processes, he realizes that Brock's right. "I guess that I can't say 

that." 

"But, I don't want you to stop wanting me because I let...myself go." Frank picked diplomatic words, "I don't think you're a liar. I don't think that you are disinterested in me. But my head is playing worst case scenario. I am afraid to lose you. Cause I'm here until you don't want me anymore."

"I feel the same, Frankie. I've been trying to get you to understand that. I'm here until death do us part. No matter what, I'm yours." Brock tips Frank's chin up so he can lean down and kiss him. 

"Im sorry I am so insecure." Frank murmurs against Brock's lips, "I've not had someone who loves me back and much as I love them." 

"It's okay. Just means I get to lavish you with more attention until I shut up the gremlins," grins Brock.

"You think you can silence em?" Frank asks as he tilts his head a little, "They've been whispering since 1999..."

"How are you gonna shut them up? Maybe another demonstration could help boost my confidence in this plan?" 

"Read my mind, tesoro," grins Brock, leaning down to kiss him again. This time there's more than a little heat.


	28. "You Have It Coming"

Frank sits leaning on Brock. He can hear his mom buzzing around the house. He leans up and kisses Brock's ear before whispering, "I'm a sleepy gattino."

His attention is pulled from his love by Carolyn who makes a gasping noise and clutching her chest. Her face grows pale as she blinks rapidly. "The angels," she whispers.

"Oh god Frankie! You are in danger! I can see it." Carolyn exclaims, "All the angels are mad."

"When is he not in danger?" Brock asks, raising his eyebrow. "I mean, you're starting to give me Harry Potter vibes."

Carolyn shoots an icy glare at Brock. "I need my cards. I need to do a reading." She shoots up from her seat and disappears from the room. 

"Why can I have a normal damn family?" Frank groans.

"There's one in every family. Two in some. Just ignore her," Brock murmurs to him, pulling him closer.

Carolyn returns with a deck of cards wrapped in a velvet cloth, a candle and a white crystal. Her hands shake slightly, her nerves are visibly shot. She mumbles, "A lady in red. How can that be..." She leans forward and grabs Frank to sit in front of her, "Pick until I say stop."

Blinking, he glances to Brock as if to say, 'What the fuck?' He picks cards at random and watches her place them on the mat. 

"Sit here."

Brock asks, mildly annoyed, "What's going on, Carolyn?" 

"Quiet you." She hisses at him. She begins flipping the cards. Swords. Coins. The chariot. The lovers. The high priestess. 

"Rude." 

"I think something big is going to happen." Carolyn looks up at him. I believe that you have a decision. "A choice that needs to be made. This choice will require focus. But I keep having a woman, an image of a woman in a blood red dress. She's reaching for something. She's a warning." 

Frank raises an eyebrow. "A warning…"

"She's going to undo everything for you, Frank." Carolyn says closing her eyes.

"And who is this imaginary chick? We don't know that many women," Brock asks.

"Frank knows her." Carolyn says with a warning tone stronger, "A jilted lover. And it's your fault." 

"Again, rude." Brock scoffs, "The only 'jilted lover' he had was that bitch Jamia who is dead. So… who else did you piss off, Frankie?"

"I don't know… Why is Brock involved?" Frank asks, a little more curious. 

"He is the whole reason for her anger." Carolyn closes her eyes and takes a breath, "The angels say that you can't treat this like a joke. That it's too important to not treat seriously."

Her eyes snap to Brock, "What did you do?"

"Depends. We talking about Frank's ex here?"

"Are we? Or have your dirty deeds come to collect, Brock? The angels say your book is filled with names." Carolyn says glaring at Brock. 

"Yeah, the little black book for the occasional booty call got burned a few years ago just before meeting Frank. Had a ton of names," he replies sarcastically. He has to refrain from an eye roll.

"We should burn mine. It's not as extensive but there's some names." Frank looks back at Brock with a smile. 

"And why is it always tied to Brock? I'm not an angel. I have done some bad shit." Frank asks, "I don't think this has any meaning… I think you are just being a fear monger. There's no woman in red. You have crazy, not touched by an angel."

"She's just meaning I'm a bad influence, tesoro. I'm easy to blame."

"And it's all for nothing. If she wants to add glitter to the glue that she's huffing, cool. But don't involve my boyfriend or me in your nonsense." Frank rolls his eyes for Brock.

Carolyn's mouth falls in a tight line. "Your wedding is doomed."

"Is it gonna rain? Or maybe the angels will send locusts?" Frank chuckles, "Our wedding is going to be beautiful. Huh, baby?"

"Of course it's going to be beautiful." Brock leans over and kisses Frank. "Because I'm marrying you." 

"I can't wait." Frank grins wide. 

Carolyn huffs. She gets her things and huffs, "I tried to warn you but if you don't heed my warning, then you have it coming."

Day 29: A Road Paved With Checkpoints

Laying beside Brock and listening to him snore softly, Frank can feel himself slipping back to a place that could be dangerous. He wonders how in the world he got here. He's got a fantastic career, a wonderful boyfriend who would be his husband someday. 

It's been an uphill battle but he's here. He made it in one piece. 

He thinks about life on the road with Brock. The ups and downs. They didn't have many spats but they always seemed to resolve themselves. He doesn't miss the tour bus. But he does miss the fans. Seeing his brothers. Playing music every night. 

Now, he gets to play house wife. He runs fingers in Brock's hair, "I'm a lucky man, Mr. Rumlow." He keeps his voice soft. He worries about the future. About being good enough. How am I going to keep him happy? Should I be more submissive? Fuck, he doesn't know.

He is going to meet Brock's full family in about two months. He's going home with him for Christmas. That is going to be a big step in the relationship and fuck does that make him nervous. There is so much riding on that. 

He exhales. He's got to get ready for Brock's birthday. The present should be arriving any day. They should be home by then. God, he misses home. He misses their bed. Their things. 

Frank shifts a little in the bed and Brock turns to the side then yanks him close. He murmurs in his sleep in Italian to go back to sleep. He sighs and gives up on his mental spiral. They have a long road ahead of them, it's dotted with checkpoints and fuel stops but they are making progress.


	29. A Road Paved With Checkpoints

Laying beside Brock and listening to him snore softly, Frank can feel himself slipping back to a place that could be dangerous. He wonders how in the world he got here. He's got a fantastic career, a wonderful boyfriend who would be his husband someday. 

It's been an uphill battle but he's here. He made it in one piece. 

He thinks about life on the road with Brock. The ups and downs. They didn't have many spats but they always seemed to resolve themselves. He doesn't miss the tour bus. But he does miss the fans. Seeing his brothers. Playing music every night. 

Now, he gets to play house wife. He runs fingers in Brock's hair, "I'm a lucky man, Mr. Rumlow." He keeps his voice soft. He worries about the future. About being good enough. How am I going to keep him happy? Should I be more submissive? Fuck, he doesn't know.

He is going to meet Brock's full family in about two months. He's going home with him for Christmas. That is going to be a big step in the relationship and fuck does that make him nervous. There is so much riding on that. 

He exhales. He's got to get ready for Brock's birthday. The present should be arriving any day. They should be home by then. God, he misses home. He misses their bed. Their things. 

Frank shifts a little in the bed and Brock turns to the side then yanks him close. He murmurs in his sleep in Italian to go back to sleep. He sighs and gives up on his mental spiral. They have a long road ahead of them, it's dotted with checkpoints and fuel stops but they are making progress. 


	30. A Guitar, A Poacher And A Rare Animal

"Yeah. You think you can hunt me without cheating like last time?" Frank snickers. He picks up Brock's empty plate and moves for the kitchen, "I'm all for a little hunter prey game. Maybe do it in the woods, like rent a cabin in the woods. You catch me and you can do whatever you want to me. What do ya say?" 

"I do like the sound of that, but I have never cheated, mister," Brock waggles his finger at Frank.

"You absolutely cheated lover. Using a spider. Dirty pool, sir." Frank grins wide, "I can book that cabin right now and we can check in by noon." 

"Oh that," Brock grins.

"Yeah. That, mister." 

"Whoops," Brock replies, totally not even a little bit sorry. "Alright. I'll bite. Book the cabin, babe." 

Frank books the cabin and quickly packs a bag. He's not sure exactly what to bring but he follows Brock to the car and enjoys the drive upstate and into the woods. He unlocks the door and steps in. He's expecting wooden and rustic but gets posh and clean. 

"So, how are we doing this? And what's the rules?" Frank drops his bag. He grins, he's weirdly excited to be hunted.

"Simple. We stick to a two-mile radius, no using cell phones unless it's an emergency, two hour time limit, and you'll get a ten minute head start. We can do anything we want within the two hours. If you win, there will be a prize in it for you." Brock smirks, "How's that? Questions?"

"You're using paintballs right?" Frank asks.

Brock nods, "My color today is blue."

"Blue. Good choice. Can I change before we start?" Frank asks, taking a step up to Brock. 

"Of course. Timer doesn't start until you say you're ready," he nods.

Frank kisses Brock. "Can't wait to win." He turns, heads into the bedroom and changes into jeans, boots and a camo sweatshirt. He steps out and nods at his love.

"Ready when you are, baby." Frank says tucking his phone into his pocket. He's got a rough plan of how to win, "In ten minutes, start our two hours." 

"Okay. Good luck," Brock kisses his cheek. "Have fun. Don't die."

"Be careful yourself, love." Frank kisses his lips. He approaches the door and stops, "See you in two hours." 

He trots out the door and into the woods. He heads west at first, then south and deeper into the trees. He moves along the water until he finds a good spot and hunkers down. He decides that his spot is too obvious. He keeps moving and finds a different spot with a better vantage point. He can slip down the backside if Brock is coming.

Brock stands at the door of the cabin, mentally counting down the ten minute mark. When the timer reaches zero, he steps off the porch and begins to walk along the trail he'd seen Frank start at. Several yards into the woods, he notes the shoe shaped impressions in the dirt and follows it. Frank was making it too easy.

The footprints fade away the closer he gets to a stream. Based on the fading patterns of the lighter earth, it looks like perhaps Frank walked along the edge or crossed it. Survival instinct is to always stay near water so he is fairly certain Frankie did not cross. To verify this, Brock crosses, feeling the ice cold water press up against his steel toe combat boots. It's a great thing they are waterproof and the stream isn't deep. He'd rather not have wet socks today. Once he's on the opposite bank, he kneels and checks for tracks. He finds nothing. With a nod, he returns to his tail and picks up where he left off, staying close to the water's edge.

Deciding that his position isn't exactly the best, he slides down the hill and gets an idea. He pulls his sweatshirt off, it's not cold. And this would not be going into the dark so he wouldn't need it. He props it up with trees and takes off the opposite direction, he moves quietly through the trees along a path and to the water. He debates crossing the stream but figures he'd leave… muddy footprints. Fuck. He's just leaving a trail to him. He needs to get into the trees and grass. "Idiot." He whispers to himself and moves back into the overgrowth. He thinks he's heading back to the cabin… maybe… he's not sure.

Walking alongside the stream, Brock spots a black shape amidst the trees. At first his brain doesn’t comprehend the ink gap between the dark browns and greens of foliage and he wonders if it is some sort of charred mass or dead thing. He prays it’s not Frankie. Slowly his brain discerns the shape and lines appear, revealing to be Frank’s hoodie. He’s on the right trail it seems. He takes the jacket with him, for both practical purposes and to possibly use it to his advantage later. He looks around, thinking about which way Frank would go. He would try to hide in the sparse woods. Brock didn't think Frank was very capable at climbing trees so he needs to look for places or natural barriers that would allow Frank to hide. Looking down and scuffing his shoe in the dirt reveals that Frank still hasn't been covering his tracks but they are faded now. There's a lighter tread in some areas that indicate the wetness on his soles were drying. He follows the trail.

Frank wanders through the brush and spots a good place to hide. An old hunters tree stand. He gets an idea and continues to walk for a while before cutting back and stepping in his tracks, as to not give more tracks to his location. He makes it back to the stand and scales the tree. It's high enough up in the branches that he thinks he blends in. He's thankful that Jack had been making him do more weight lifting during their workouts.

Brock follows the trail, noting where the footprints had deviated, as if Frank was lost. Or trying to throw him off the trail. He wanders a bit, looking for new clues that would tell him where Frank went. He almost misses the camouflaged hunter's nest, nearly walking directly under it before the lines break in his vision. Suddenly it was just there. He pulls up short and stares up at it. He wonders if Frankie discovered this. It would be a perfect hiding spot for kittens. Instead of calling out, he decides to climb it. At the very least, he can use it as a vantage point. He pokes his head into the basket.

"Fuck." Frank sighs. He looks at Brock's face and gives him a soft sweet smile, "I'm waving a proverbial white flag?" 

Brock chuckles. "You did very well, choosing this. I almost missed it." 

"I shoulda crossed the river." Frank playfully pouts. 

"Actually, staying in the river would have been better. Hides tracks. If you were a prey animal, the river would have both hid your tracks and your scent from the predator. But this, using camouflage, is smart." Brock climbs the rest of the way into the basket. "As I said, I nearly missed this. About walked right under it without noticing. Predators would have the same trouble discerning the lines. This was a good choice. Once I saw it through, I figured you'd either be hiding in it or I could use it as a vantage point."

"Thanks! I had a little incline mound thing by the water, I was going to use it to see where you'd head but that was not a good idea." Frank says leaning over and kissing him, "I'm glad that Jack makes me lift weights cause climbing the tree wasn't bad."

"Good. This whole thing makes me want to take you on an excursion to teach you some survivalist things. But then I think how that's kind of got a Dad vibe written all over it and I nope out," Brock snickers.

"Have Jack do it. And you can be at home waiting for us." Frank says with a grin. It would be fun to do some survival training. Maybe some roughin it camping kinda things, "Though… you do make quite a few dad jokes in a day." 

"Hush. You love it. Though I bet we can make camping very undad-like."

"Oh? And how's that? No fishing? Only four dad jokes in an hour?" Frank asks before biting his lip.

"Sure, those are options. I hate fishing, for one. But no, I was thinking about something with a little less clothing." Brock smirks, "Maybe even at night, under the stars. Where nobody can hear you scream." 

"Speaking of. What are you gonna do to me?" Frank asks with a smile. He likes the idea of sexy outdoor time.

"That's best left to your imagination, I think," Brock smiles. He kisses him with a little heat- a preview of things to come. "Come on. It's getting late. Let's go back to the cabin and start dinner."

"Mmm. I think that sounds good. Maybe I can be the dessert after?" Frank grins before following Brock to the ground. Once their feet are on the ground and heading back to the cabin. "Thanks for not shooting me." 

"I would never!" 

"I would have. Or at least done it now." Frank snickers. He takes Brock's hand and smiles, "You know, mark my victory." 

"I mark my territory in other ways, tesoro," Brock chuckles.

"You do?" Frank asks with a straight face. He's just fucking with Brock. He's marked up at the moment.

"You know it and love it," Brock wraps one arm around Frank and kisses his cheek. 

"I do baby. I had fun today. Being a feral kitten." Frank smiles up at his husband, "I'm thinking steak for dinner. I feel like that is a good victory dinner."

"I think that sounds like a perfect idea."

Several days later, Brock enters a small shop that was roughly outside the edges of the Bronx. The shop is brightly lit with several display cases. A man behind the counter grins at Brock and pulls out a large black case.

"I do believe this beauty is yours," the man says, "assuming of course you are Mister Rumlow."

"I am," replies Brock, extending his hand to shake. "Dimitri Carrington?"

Dimitri nods and returns the handshake before unlocking the case for Brock. "This here is a one-of-a-kind piece. I hope you like it, my man."

It was beautiful. Cherry red wood with black and cream accents, the piece would make Frankie's heart explode with joy. Something that Brock loved watching.

Frank enters the apartment with a bag slung over his shoulder and a phone pushes to his ear, "No mah, we aren't coming over for dads birthday. I already talked to him. We are going out the week after, I'll be in Mexico for an award event."

He hangs his bag up in the closet and kicks his shoes off. He enters Brocks office and drops the mail off on his husband's desk. He pulls a post-it out and writes 'i love you, xofrnk' then puts it on top of the envelopes.

"I love you too mom. I gotta make dinner for the hubby before he comes home. Yes, I'll send him your love. Yes, I'll pinch his butt. Good night momma." Frank chuckles before slipping his phone into his pocket. He heads back to the kitchen and begins preparing for dinner.

"Frank?" Brock calls as he enters their home. He hides the case behind his back as he steps into the living room.

"Hi baby!" Frank calls back, "I am in the kitchen. Where were you? I put mail on your desk. Mom says hi and to give your butt a good squeeze." 

"Sounds about right." Brock walks into the kitchen, still holding his gift behind his back.

Frank looks up and smiles at Brock, "whatcha got there?" 

"A gift for you." 

"For me? It's not my birthday…" Frank grins as he teases. He walks around the kitchen island towards Brock. 

"No. But I did promise you a gift if you won our little hunt. So I got you something."

"But… I didn't win." Frank says confused, " you did. You caught the rare and feral Frankie kitty." 

"Technically, but it was an accident. So you would have won." Brock pulls the gift out from behind his back and presents it to Frank.

"Baby." Frank starts as he takes the guitar case, "You didn't have to." He sets it on the floor and opens the clasps before pushing open the case, where a Gretsch red double cut hollowed bodied electric guitar signed with Bon Jovi's name and the rest of the band sat in a black velvet lining. "Brock! This is pretty!" He glances up at him with a huge smile.

"I'm glad you like it. I'm not sure who half of those people are but I know you like Bon jovi, so. Surprise."

"Baby. This is… who's guitar was it? Bon Jovi or Sambora? Oh my god, baby. This is amazing!" Frank leans over and hugs him tight. He kisses him and kisses him again. 

"You're welcome, my love," Brock says just before kissing him again. 

Frank closes the case and rises to his feet. He steps over it and wraps his arms around Brock's neck. He kisses him again, "I'm the luckiest gattino."


End file.
